Silence
by Lumos1995
Summary: Hermione & Ron have been together for over two decades and friends for the better part of three, but so much has changed in thirty years. With both children grown and attending Hogwarts, the pair finally takes time to address the cracks in their marriage. But is it too late? [Consistent with HP books, epilogue, and, as of now, The Cursed Child.] AU? (depends on your opinion of R&H)
1. Chapter 1: The Argument

"Hello Ron."

"Hello Ron?"

"Yes, I believe it's called a greeting."

"Don't be petty Hermione… Is that how you _greet_ the father of your two children? The man you just spent the night with? A lousy 'Hello Ron'?"

"Apparently."

"Fine. I can be petty too."

"Oh, I'm aware."

"Come on Mione. I didn't come here to pick a fight."

"Then why did you come here?"

"You left…"

"I did."

"Why?"

Silence.

"Hermione… We need to talk"

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 _Hermione. We. Need. To. Talk._ Those were the words she'd been waiting to hear for so long she'd given up hope, yet, as they hung in the air she realized they were the words she had recently come to dread.

"I don't think there's anything to say Ron."

"Of course there are things to say Mione. Shit there's loads to say," he murmured as he moved to cross the threshold into the front entryway of their home. Well, what had been their home.

"Stop," she breathed, bracing a hand firmly against his chest and taking note of the rapidness of his heartbeat beneath his coat, a coat she thought she remembered buying a few Christmases ago.

"Come on Min. Are you really going to leave your husband out in the rain when he's come to say he lov—

"Please, just don't!" she begged as she moved to close the door only to have it blocked by his body.

"God damn it Ron, move, or so help me I will hex you! You don't get to do this… You don't get to just waltz in here and pretend like everything's fine, like we haven't been separated for a year or like things haven't been utter shite for the past five!"

Her chest began to heave as she tried desperately to suck in enough air, and she directed all the strength she could muster into forcing the door closed, as if that thin barrier would somehow block him out of her life.

"That's not what I'm… Last night… I thought—"

"You thought what?! That one night of angry lovemaking could somehow erase years of neglect and emotional abuse! Contrary to what you may believe Ronald, sex cannot fix a marriage, which I thought would have been made pretty clear considering this isn't our first Quidditch Tournament …"

His face reddened, and she could visibly see his temper bubbling to the surface.

"So you're saying last night was a mistake?! Well that's just great Hermione! Here I was thinking we might be able to have a civil conversation for once!"

"Oh and whose fault is that Ron? I have spent years begging you to have a 'civil conversation'! YEARS! What could you possibly want to talk about now?! How about the years of snide remarks and backhanded comments! Or maybe the years of making me doubt every decision, every sacrifice I made for this family! Perhaps you'd like to address the YEARS I spent wondering if you ever really loved me or if it was all just a lie! You couldn't possibly want to discuss that pitiful excuse for lovemaking you so clumsily administered last night. A mistake is exactly what that was! A huge FUCKING mistake!"

Ron suddenly lifted his hand, and she was sure an admittedly deserved slap was on its way, but instead she found a finger wiping a lonely tear from her cheek. By the look on his face, the action seemed to have surprised even him. After all, this wouldn't have been the first time her husband had allowed his anger to go unchecked, resulting in some sort of violent outburst.

"Are you finished?" he muttered, eyes staring intently at his sneakers.

She had never planned to say those things to him. Especially not like this. But as soon as they left her mouth she felt her chest lighten (something she was not proud of), and then the floodgates burst open, and she found herself collapsed weakly against the door.

"Oh Ron, I didn't mean to—I'm so sorry," she managed through sniffles and sobs.

"Her—Hermione… Hermione please don't cry. _I'm_ sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I know I've messed up royally, and I don't expect to fix it all right now. I know I've been aloof for a few years. Well, that's an understatement. I've been a bloody prick Hermione. And I should have talked to you… I know… It's just—"

He ran a hand through his shaggy red hair, and she thought, for a brief moment, he might finally gift her with an explanation, or a sincere apology, some semblance of truth or clarity. Instead, she was met with what had become her constant companion over the past five years: silence.

She straightened slowly, and when he reached to touch her arm she quickly shrugged the gesture of comfort away.

"It's just what, Ron?"

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and she could see the wheels turning desperately in his brain, struggling to mold his thoughts into sentences. Words had never been her husband's strong suit, a truth she had known long before they'd married. He was bloody good at saying the things he knew he shouldn't, but not so much at those he should.

Honesty, however, was something she had never thought she would lack from him. Honesty was a characteristic she thought she'd always be able to count on. But looking up at his tired face, she observed now what she'd seen for many years; there was something he was holding back.

There was a time when she had thought it might have been another relationship, another woman. He had always been an openly affectionate person. He wore his heart on his sleeve, a trait she had both admired and feared. But that argument had been put to rest too many times. No, it was something else. Something deeper. Something she had scratched the surface of so many times but never been able to pinpoint or break through.

Finally, he spoke, "Hermione. I love you. And I made a promise to love you for the rest of my life, and I don't want to break that vow."

She was surprised he had brought up their marriage vows, considering they had been the subject of so many of their arguments over the years, namely the fact that Ron had been too drunk at their wedding to remember them...

She was tempted to throw that in his face once more, but decided it wasn't worth it in the end. The truth was that his answer, though simple, was honest, which she supposed was some consolation. But it wasn't enough… Not anymore at least.

"That's nice Ron, but I have a feeling those vows lost much of their meaning a long time ago… I love you too. I do. But I can't keep doing this. It hurts too much. Last night was… Last night was wrong, and it shouldn't have happened. We stopped being good for each other a long time ago, and I think maybe it would be best for all parties if we go our own ways now, for good this time."

She saw the panic in his eyes, and it nearly broke her heart. Just nearly.

"That's not true Mione, and you know it! You don't mean that. Not really. Don't do this. Please! You're the strong one Min. I'm weak, I know, but you make me better. You make US better. Don't give up on us. Don't give up on ME. I'm bloody lost without you!" he cried as he finally won his battle with the door, quickly enveloping her in his arms.

She was suddenly made keenly aware of the scene laid out before her. Here was her husband, Ronald Weasley, her best friend and father of her two beautiful children, clinging to her in the rain, desperately pleading to save their marriage. It was a sight she would have paid a million galleons for a year ago, maybe even a few months ago… But now, looking into those sky blue eyes she realized she no longer cared what he had to say

"Really? Because if all of this is true, if you truly loved me, you had an interesting way of showing it… I'm just so tired Ron… I'm tired of fighting this battle alone, and I think you're tired too."

Her voice was barely above a whisper now, and she felt the exhaustion of their fight beginning to wear on her. But as she lightly traced the zipper on his coat she decided to give him one last chance.

"Just, just answer one question for me Ron. Just one. What happened between us? Things weren't always like this. For a time, they were really good. Like when the kids were little or even back when it was just you and me. We had rough patches, sure, but what happened to make the patches become the normal? Somewhere along the way, something changed… I, I don't know if it was me or if it was you, but something got lost, and Ron I tried! I _tried_ talking. I _tried_ listening. But you wouldn't listen or talk back! Not really… Couples who love each other work together to fix their problems, and you, Ron, you would never do that for us! Why?"

After a few more minutes of deafening silence she gently extricated herself from his grasp.

"Go home Ron. I'm not sure where that is for you, but it's not here anymore. It's not with me. It hasn't been for a while."


	2. Chapter 2: A Letter

AN: Hello everyone! This is the first story I have ever written, so be patient with me, but don't hesitate to offer constructive criticism!

I hope after you've read this chapter you go back and re-read Chapter 1. I think now that you have Ron's side of things, the things that transpired in Ch1 might look a bit differently to you Hope you enjoy!

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It had been almost a week since her conversation with Ron. Well, 'conversation' was putting it nicely… It had been an all out fight, but honestly it had been one of their prettier ones.

Rose and Hugo had come home for a short Fall Holiday weekend, and she'd been surprised Ron hadn't arranged to see them. But it turned out he'd flooed Rose and Hugo on Thursday to tell them he'd been sick and probably shouldn't see them this time.

She worried their argument had something to do with it, but she couldn't very well tell her children about their parents' sensual escapades and the disaster that had followed…

The separation had been hard on the kids, to say the least, and things had finally been going good. At least they had reached a state of normalcy. And she had been seriously considering if it was time to make the trial separation more permanent.

And then she'd attended that game night at Harry's. She and Ron had gone to Harry and Ginny's every Saturday night when the kids were younger to eat pizza and play games, and truthfully, she had missed it. She'd missed her friends, and she'd missed laughing over stupid jokes and killing them in Trivial Pursuit and stuffing her face with greasy carbs, and, if she was being honest, she'd missed Ron.

Not the Ron who acted like things were fine when they were in public and ignored her as soon as they got home. Not the Ron who never let her be proud of herself or her accomplishments. But the Ron Weasley she had fallen in love with when she was eighteen. The Ron who made her laugh till she peed her pants. The Ron who would drop his playing cards just so he could bend down and kiss her thigh. The Ron she knew would do anything for her at the drop of a hat.

She missed that Ron. And that was the Ron she chose to see when he walked through Harry's front door. And suddenly it was like nothing bad had ever happened. She knew she should have said no when he asked if she wanted to come over for a few drinks, but she naïvely thought perhaps she could finally get him to open up.

Of course one drink turned into two and two to four (the man made a wicked gin and tonic) and suddenly she found herself wrapped in his sheets, panting into his chest, with her clothes strewn across the floor.

And she hated herself for it. Messy makeup sex had become the Tylenol to the issues in their marriage, and she'd promised herself she wouldn't allow it anymore. But she was weak, and she had needs, and she got caught up in the charade. He was still her husband after all… And she did still love him…

She didn't know if that night had meant anything to him. Heck, she didn't know if it had meant anything to her. But it really didn't matter, because besides the fact that they had shared a bed for the first time in over a year, nothing else had changed.

And just as she'd told him on Sunday, sex can't fix a marriage…

She was about to go ask Rose and Hugo how they wanted to spend their Saturday night when an owl she recognized as Ron's flew up to the bedroom window.

"Hello Peruvius. There's a good bird. What mysterious parcel have you brought to me tonight?"

She pried a rather thick roll of parchment from his talons and immediately recognized Ron's scrawl.

A letter? Since when did Ron Weasley write letters? She couldn't think of a singular instance in their entire relationship where he had written a letter.

After giving Peruvius a treat and sending him on his way ( _She knew she wouldn't have time to write back tonight even if she wanted to)_ , she sat down and began pouring over the largest collection of words she had likely ever seen from her husband.

 _H_ _ermione,_

 _I've thought about our conversation and the things you said every day for the past week, and I agree with you on at least one account. You deserve an explanation. I'm no good with words Hermione. You know that. Harry suggested I try writing them, so here we go. I know you at least can read my handwriting._

 _On Sunday you accused me of three specific things, and I'd like to address them. Hopefully this will help you understand my attitude for the last several years. I won't try to justify my past actions, but I'll do my best to explain them._

 _First, to your comment that I've made you doubt the sacrifices you made for our family… I never meant to do that Mione, and I'm sorry I did, but I think I thought that making you question those decisions would somehow justify the doubt I felt for my own. Did you ever stop to think about the sacrifices I made for our family too? I gave up my job Hermione. Did you not realize how difficult that was for me? I mean, sure, I love working at the shop with George, but that wasn't the career I'd dreamed of since I was a kid… I was an Auror! A bloody Auror, Hermione, with Harry fucking Potter! (Sorry Harry) But I gave it all up for you and the kids, so that you could follow your dreams and they would have someone with a more flexible schedule at home._

 _And, honestly, when you suggested it after Rose was born, I didn't once consider that I'd regret it one day. Because you were Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of our age! And you are bloody brilliant Hermione, but sometimes you think too much with your head and not enough with your heart. I trusted you to help me make decisions that were best for the both of us, but when Hugo went off to school I looked around at my life and began to wonder if those decisions had really been for US, or if they'd mainly been for YOU._

 _There you were running the entire Ministry of Magic with Harry as your right hand man, and I was working part time at a joke shop, pushed to the side as usual. And I got angry Hermione! Why couldn't I have kept working as an Auror when the kids were born? Harry and Gin both worked, and mom and dad helped out with the kids. I know people said I only got that job because of the war, and I'll admit I wasn't great at it, but it was so nice to finally have something of my own, something that made me feel special and useful for once in my life!_ _But I listened to you, and I didn't question it. I guess that's my own fault. I should have just told you from the beginning, but I guess I was worried that you were embarrassed of your position-grabbing, second-rate Auror husband, and I couldn't bear to hear that from you Mione. So I went along with it. After all, who was I to disagree with the great Hermione Granger?_

 _There it is I guess… That's really what it boils down to isn't it? For years, I have felt like I lived in your shadow Hermione. I've always known you were smarter than me. Everyone knew. But I never imagined that would translate into you being 'better than me'. I read the Witches Weekly articles that questioned how someone like you could be with someone like me. I heard the whispers about how you wore the pants in our relationship. I shook hands with too many witches and wizards who stumbled to comment on my work after congratulating you on yours. And I know I shouldn't have listened, and I shouldn't have let it get to me, but it did! And frankly, Hermione, I got tired of seeing that smug look on your face or hearing that tone of superiority in your voice every time we had a disagreement._

 _I guess that's where your other accusation comes into play. The derogatory comments I have made in the past were wrong and were the result of jealousy and a petty desire to knock you down a peg… I shouldn't have done it, but sometimes I still wonder if you might need to get knocked off your high horse every now and again. No one is perfect Hermione. No, not even you._

 _But it wasn't just jealousy over your position or the fact that I felt you were able to follow your dreams and I wasn't. You were ALWAYS gone Hermione. And I know that's part of the gig, but Jesus, there were so many days when I felt like I was single parenting around here. But then you'd come home exhausted, and I could never figure out how to talk to you about it without sounding like an utter prat. On top of that I didn't really know what I expected you to do about it._

 _I couldn't ask you to give up the ministry, even if there were times I wanted to, not after all the work you'd put in. It wouldn't have been fair. And, honestly, your relationship with the kids was great. You spent every spare second you had pouring into them, and I'm glad you did. But it didn't leave much time for me. You say you wanted me to talk, but WHEN Hermione? There never seemed to be any time… So I just kept waiting, hoping you'd notice how miserable I was, and maybe realize what had caused it. I know I shouldn't have expected that of you, but that's what I did._

 _As for your last accusation, my love for you, that was never a lie Hermione. There were times when it was certainly tested and strained, and I'd say it's taken some pretty hard hits over the years. But I never stopped loving you. As angry as I still am about so many things, I can't help but still be bloody proud of the amazing mother, friend, and minister you've become. As for wife and husband, well I think we both agree we haven't done the best job in those roles. But you're wrong about my marriage vows meaning nothing, at least not to me._

 _When I came to the house last Sunday, before we got into the argument, I did want to talk about Saturday night, but not for the reasons you might think. I mean it was great, the sex and all. I appreciate your attempt to wound my vanity, but let's be honest, if we ever got around to it, we never lacked in that department. But I realized the reason I enjoyed it so much was because I was pretending we were teenagers again… As soon as I walked into Harry and Gin's and saw your face I began pretending we were teenagers again. Then I woke up on Sunday to a text from Hugo asking about some Quidditch thing, and I realized that we aren't kids anymore Hermione…_

 _The thing is, I'm not sure we know who we are as adults, especially not as a married couple. But Saturday night gave me hope that maybe we could try. I think we always just expected each other to be there, and with so much going on, our relationship was the one thing we let slide. But relationships take work Hermione, and we haven't been putting in the time. What you said about you not being my home anymore was right. You're not, and you haven't been for a while. But that doesn't mean you can't be again right? Because I meant it when I said that you make me better Min. Maybe not recently, but in the past, you did. I used to always say I was the best version of me when I was with you…_

 _I'm kind of rambling now, so I'll rap this up. Imagine that, me, rambling. Maybe I shouldn't have bribed you to write all of those essays for me in school... I think I kinda have a knack for this! Anyway, I'm sorry Mione. For everything. I know that doesn't begin to cover all I've done. And I am sorry that I wasn't able to be there for you like you needed me to be over the years, but maybe you can see now that you weren't really there for me either… And maybe we were both expecting too much, and giving too little._

 _Love always,_

 _Ron  
_


	3. Chapter 3: Rose

AN: So in this chapter I reference events that took place in 'The Cursed Child'. They just fit really well into the timeline, considering the bulk of the play took place during Rose and Albus's 4th year and Hugo's 1st year at Hogwarts (correct me if I'm wrong). If you haven't read the play I don't think you'll be super lost. But as always, if you have questions or suggestions, let me know! Enjoy!

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Hermione lay in her bed, Ron's note resting on her chest, analyzing the cracks in the ceiling as she contemplated what she'd just read.

One part of her brain was tempted to formulate a list of counterarguments against the complaints he had made, if only for her own self-justification. But she quickly wrote that off as futile and inconsequential. The truth was, in many ways, he was right.

She still thought he should have brought these things to her attention years earlier… But he had a valid point about the busyness of her life… There hadn't been time for just the two of them in a long while. And she reluctantly admitted that it was largely her own fault.

Her ascent to Minister had taken a heavy toll on her personal life. And while she'd worked her hardest to make sure it didn't affect the kids, perhaps she hadn't given her relationship with Ron the same attention or dedication.

She had thought things might get better once the children were both in school and that she and Ron might finally have time to work on their problems. But of course Albus Potter had to choose his fourth year (Hugo's first) to pull his little stunt.

She loved the boy dearly, and she didn't entirely blame him for the events that transpired. In fact, she had more pity on him than anything, but it had simply been unfortunate timing that the first year she and Ron were actually alone was largely consumed with ministry business.

Sure they had put on a nice front for everyone, and she'd genuinely enjoyed spending the extra time with him, but it hadn't been quality time. Not the time they needed to mend their broken bones. In the end, she realized they had probably both been pretending again. Happy to re-inhabit the roles they'd occupied in 'The Golden Trio' as kids.

At the end of the whole ordeal, when Ron had boldly announced that he wanted them to renew their wedding vows, she had naïvely assumed that they must be fine, that their relationship had magically been restored. But once the kids went back to school and things went back to 'normal,' the old grievances and bitter feelings returned.

She'd tried to get him to talk, but things were so hectic at the ministry after the incident, perhaps she hadn't tried enough… Within a few months marriage renewal plans transfigured into separation plans. They had said, at the time, that they were doing it in order to 'give one another some space,' and to 'figure things out,' but looking back at it now, she wondered if it had really been an excuse not to try…

They'd been separated for a year now, and at some point 'figuring things out' became 'trying to see if we're better apart'.

In that moment, the other part of her brain was begging her to just crawl under the covers and cry until she had no more tears left.

How could she have been so daft? How could she have been so blind? Of course giving up his job as an Auror had been difficult for Ron… But she'd never asked, had she?

She had simply analyzed the situation and seen that Molly had her hands full with the Potter and other Weasley grandchildren and made the executive decision that Ron's job was more disposable than her own.

It's not that she hadn't given a thought to his personal happiness. She knew he would work well with George in the shop and that he was really better suited for making people laugh than carrying out ministry business.

The fact that he thought her decision might have been motivated by embarrassment broke her heart. It's not that he was a bad Auror or couldn't take the job. It was just that the work was draining, and he had always struggled with handling the darkness of life. She had figured adding a little joy might be good for him.

Additionally, she had known for years that he would be an excellent father, so when Rose came along she thought that taking care of the kids would be the best option for his happiness as well as for the family's.

But she'd never explained any of that. She'd assumed he knew.

Even worse, she'd never checked in. She'd never asked him how he was adjusting to his new jobs or if he missed being an Auror. She'd never asked how he was handling the pressure of being married to the Minister for Magic. She'd never told him that she thought being a father was one of the most valuable jobs in the entire world.

She'd let her own insecurities about her performance as a mother get in the way of praising him for being the tremendous dad he truly was. And he really was tremendous… The kids adored him, and too often she'd wondered if they even recognized her face.

As if on cue, Rose suddenly appeared in her doorway.

"I came up to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but we don't have to if you're not feeling up to it… You alright mum?" she asked with a knowing look in her eye.

With a sniff Hermione wiped her nose and tried to dry her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, but she knew she wouldn't be able to cover this up.

"I suppose there's no use hiding my true feelings from you Rosie dear. No, no I don't think I am alright. In fact, I am very much _not_ alright."

Rose quickly made her way over to the bed and fell into her mother's open arms, snuggling in tight. Sixteen years old and Rose was still her little snuggle bug. They lay there for a while. Mother and daughter grasping tightly to each other, as unspoken words of comfort and understanding passed between them.

And then, surprising even herself, Hermione heard herself begin to speak.

"Sometimes I look back on my life and I wonder if the decisions I made were worth it, if I valued the right things, if I trusted the right people… My whole life I was fed these ideas about what makes someone 'successful', what gives something 'value', what distinguishes 'good' from 'bad,' 'right' from 'wrong'… But so often I wonder if I had been allowed to come to those conclusions on my own, if I might have done a few things differently…"

After contemplating her mother's speech for a moment, Rose replied, "I'm assuming that buried within these self-reflective generalities there are some specific situations or people you're referring to… But I understand if it's not something you want to talk about right now, or at least not with me. But I think, overall, I understand what you're saying, mum. Life is not always as black and white as we're made to believe."

Hermione chuckled at her daughter's intuitiveness, "And I wonder why people say you take after me…"

In truth, she had never questioned people's observation of their likeness. While Rose certainly looked a Weasley, the minute she opened her mouth she was all Granger. But there were other equally important aspects of her personality she had inherited from Ron. Her stubborn loyalty to her friends, her fierce outrage against betrayal and injustice, and a jovial sense of humor that could conjure a smile in even the darkest of times.

As she lay there stroking her daughter's hair she realized that there was at least one decision in her life she did not question in the slightest. Having Rose and Hugo was irrefutably and unquestionably the best thing that had ever happened to her, better than any victory in battle or policy or title, and the bond she shared with her children left all other relationships in the dust. If anything made her marriage to Ronald Weasley completely, 1000% worth it in her book, it was them.

"You are my light Rose Jean Weasley… You and your brother are the best gifts my marriage ever gave me, and I am just so incredibly lucky to be your mum…"

Rose smiled, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the sadness concealed behind it.

"What is it dearest?"

"Nothing mum, it's just… I know you mean well when you say that, but was being with dad really that bad? I mean, I know you had your differences, but I always thought you sort of complemented each other, brought out each other's best, yuh know?"

Hermione briefly debated whether or not she wanted to cross this bridge with her daughter. She and Rose were close, and, for the most part, they told each other everything. But she had always made it a point to keep her marital issues separate from her relationship with her kids. She hated when parents would complain to their children about their spouse, and she had never wanted to subject Rose and Hugo to that.

In the end she decided that this was a conversation she and Rose needed to have. They hadn't really talked about the separation outside of how Rose was handling it. But Rose wasn't a little girl anymore, and Hermione recognized she might need a little more explanation.

So she took a moment to formulate what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. It was so easy to view the situation from only her perspective, but she knew how important it was for Rose to understand that no one person was at fault. If Ron's letter had reminded her of anything, it was that relationships were complicated. If Rose hadn't learned that already, she certainly would soon.

"Rose, I know last year your father and I told you that we were having trouble reconciling some differences and that we needed to take some time apart. And that's true, but it's more complicated than just that."

"Your dad and I are very different people, and like you said, those differences can complement each other and bring out the best in both people. But they can also tear you apart if you're not careful. Relationships, strong healthy relationships, take a lot of work Rosie, and you have to be willing to carve out time for them."

Rose quietly interjected, "Are you saying that you and dad didn't make your marriage a priority?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying sweetheart."

"But why not? You loved each other. I know you did. I think you still do… I have friends whose parents fought, and you two were never like that. I loved our family!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Rose's confession. And when she looked back on all the memories the four of them had shared, their Friday evening movie nights, Saturdays at the Potters, holidays to Thorp Park and Disneyland Paris, even the small things like reading The Chronicles of Narnia at bed time or dancing around the kitchen after dinner, she loved their family too.

What Rose couldn't remember, however, were the screaming matches she and Ron had in their silenciod bedroom once the kids had gone to sleep, or the times she and Ron met for lunch while the kids were at primary school, only to fill the time with snide remarks and harsh words that left her crying into her desk back at the office. Rose couldn't remember the many nights Hermione slept alone and Ron on the couch because they couldn't stand to be in the same room not to mention the same bed, or the many times Ron had stayed with his parents or Harry and Gin after the kids went to Hogwarts.

Rose couldn't remember those things because she didn't know they had occurred, and Hermione was so grateful for that, but she knew it made it difficult for her daughter to understand how strained things had really been.

"Well, I'm so glad to hear you say that sweetheart. I love our family too. Your father and I did our best to keep our problems away from you and Hugo. I never wanted you to see us fighting. But, the truth is Rosie, we just got busy. I had the Ministry to take care of, and your dad had the shop, and we had you and Hugo, and somewhere along the way we stopped making time for each other."

"But Hugo and I have been gone for a while now. I guess I don't understand why you couldn't just… I don't know mum… Pick up where you left off?"

Hermione gazed down at her beautiful, intelligent, compassionate daughter and wondered how she'd gotten so lucky. She also prayed that her next statement would put to rest a fear she had had ever since she and Ron announced their separation.

"I wish it were that easy dear… But I'm afraid so much damage had already been done, and we'd been growing apart for so long, I'm not sure we knew where to start. But Rose, I want you to hear me when I say this. If there's anything you take away from this conversation, I want it to be this. My problems with your father have _nothing_ to do with you or your brother. Ok? There are plenty of couples who have children and still manage to keep their marriage strong. Look at your uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. The issues between your father and me are entirely our fault and a direct result of our poor decisions. But you and Hugo are not and will never be a poor decision. As I said, you are truly the best things that ever happened to me, and I know your dad would say the same."

Rose snuggled a little deeper into her mother's arms, and Hermione could feel the rise and fall of her daughter's back as she took in a deep sigh.

"I think I understand mum. It makes me sad, and I wish there was something I could do to fix it… I love you both so much, and I just want you to be happy."

"Me too love. Me too."


	4. Chapter 4: Emotional

Hermione awoke on the sofa Sunday morning to the smell of pancakes and bacon wafting in from the kitchen.

After her talk with Rose, she and her daughter had joined Hugo in the den to watch some superhero film that had recently come out on Netflix. She hadn't lasted thirty minutes.

At some point in the night one of the kids must have gone up to her room because she was currently snuggled up against a pillow from her bed and wrapped in her favorite quilt. Bloody lucky. That's what she was.

She may have slept long, but that didn't mean she'd slept well. As the events of yesterday quickly came back to her she suddenly felt like she'd been hit by the Knight Bus.

Reluctantly she removed herself from the couch and made her way into the kitchen where she was greeted with the site of Rose flipping pancakes on the griddle and Hugo pouring her a cup of coffee. Bloody lucky indeed.

"Good morning mum," her son said as he handed her the steaming mug.

"Morning you two. I didn't realize you'd become quite the little chefs!"

"Dad taught us how to make some simple stuff over the summer in case he was ever too busy to cook or pick something up."

Ron had shown them how to cook? Truthfully, he'd probably taught them the only things he himself knew how to make. His menu was by no means extensive, which is why the kids had eaten a lot more takeout growing up than she would have preferred.

When she had time on the weekends she would often make meals for the week so that Ron could just heat them up when the kids got hungry or when she got home, whichever came first. But she would usually do that after the kids had gone to bed, not wanting to waste any time she had with them. She'd never considered teaching them to cook herself.

There was something about picturing Ron showing Rose how to mix pancake batter or demonstrating to Hugo how to boil a potato that made her smile.

She was gnawing on a piece of bacon when she suddenly remembered something from Ron's letter.

"This may seem like a strange thing to ask, but humor me. Did either of you ever feel like I wasn't around a lot when you were younger, and if so, did that bother you?"

The siblings exchanged a look between them, and Hermione braced herself for their reply.

"You were gone a lot, mum," Rose admitted truthfully. "And there were days, especially when we were really little, when we missed you a lot, and we didn't understand why you couldn't be home as much as dad was."

Then Hugo chimed in, "But dad always made sure we knew how much you loved us. He would tell us how your job was really demanding and that if you could spend every second with us you would. And when you were around, you proved every word of that true."

"You were a fantastic mother, mum. Don't ever doubt that. And Hugo and I, we couldn't be more proud to call you ours."

Hugo nodded his head in agreement, and Hermione felt tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Seriously what had she done to deserve such precious children? And then there was Ron... He'd defended her love to them time and time again, despite his frustration with her.

"Where is this coming from mum?" Rose questioned.

"Nowhere. It's nothing. Your father just mentioned something the other day, and it got me thinking. Nothing bad. Just that I was gone a lot."

Hugo's eyes widened and Ron's lopsided smile began to spread across his face as he straightened up in his chair. "You've been talking with dad?! Does that mean—"

"It doesn't mean anything Hugo," Rose snapped. "It just means they've been talking."

"It still means _something_ ," Hugo mumbled, shuffling out of the kitchen.

"Rose, you didn't have to use that tone. You know this has been exceptionally hard on him. Finish cleaning up and then go pack your things. Uncle Harry will be here soon to take us to the station."

She placed her dishes in the sink and climbed up the stairs to her son's room. He was laying on his Chudley Cannons bedspread, throwing a quaffle up in the air when she peaked her head through the door.

"I'm fine mum," he said unconvincingly.

She walked into the room and sat on the edge of his bed, moving her hand to gently pat his head. There were definite tearstains on the neck of his nightshirt, and his cheeks were still wet.

"Really, I'm fine. I was just about to pack up my things," he sniffed, running the back of his hand under his nose.

"Hugo," she said gently. "Whatever is bothering you, you know you can tell me. Right?"

He nodded, wordlessly.

She was about to leave when he finally spoke.

"I hate that you and dad don't love each other anymore. And I hate that I can't talk to anyone at school about it. I know you said it would make things hard at the ministry, but I just get so angry and sad all the time, and I can't explain it to anyone. I mean Lilly knows, but she doesn't understand. Her parents are happy and in love. Her life is _normal_."

That last sentence broke her heart, and she questioned for the millionth time if she and Ron had made a mistake.

"Oh sweetheart. It's not that we don't love each other. We just… Don't get along anymore. But there's still love between us, and most importantly, we love you."

"But if you still love each other, why can't you just _be_ _together_?" He looked at her with those pleading eyes that reminded her so much of the way Ron had looked at her a week ago. She so desperately wished she could give him the answer he wanted, an answer that would make the hurt go away, but there wasn't one.

"I'm afraid there's not an easy answer to that question baby," she sighed. "I think we're just trying to figure out if we're better apart than we were together."

"Well I could have answered that one for you a year ago… You're not."

She chuckled at her son's certainty and optimism, "Oh really? And what makes you so sure?"

"He makes you laugh, and you make him brave."

He said it with such matter-of-factness, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. How did her children seem to have a better understanding of her relationship with Ron than she did?

"Perhaps you're right," she said, kissing him on the temple. "Alright then, it's time to start packing your trunk. Your aunt and uncle will be here soon."

She left to go get ready herself, but she couldn't push Hugo's words out of her mind. ' _He makes you laugh, and you make him brave._ "

It's true Ron had always made her laugh more than anyone else, but what was so important about that? And what had he meant when he said she made Ron brave? When had Ron had to be brave lately? He was a Gryffindor so of course he was brave, but what did she have to do with it?

She was still contemplating it when she heard the honk of Harry's car horn. She grabbed her jacket and her purse and rushed downstairs, grateful to see that Rose and Hugo were there with trunks and brooms and cages ready to go.

"Well done you two. Off we go!"

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Would there ever come a day when she didn't get emotional seeing them board the Hogwarts Express? Probably not. Seeing Rose, Albus, and Scorpius sitting together on the train would always remind her of her own experiences at Hogwarts.

"Oh knock it off Hermione. It's not even the first day of school! It was just a holiday weekend. No need to get all emotional," Ginny joked.

"Don't you lecture me on being emotional Ginerva Potter! I saw the way you hugged James before he boarded!"

"That is _completely_ different! That was the _last_ time I will ever see James board the train after Fall Holiday."

"Oh you're right. Completely different."

"It is!" she squealed and they burst into a fit of laughter.

"Aright my gaggling geese, let's head home, shall we?" Harry offered them his arms and escorted them down platform 9¾ .

It took them longer than she had hoped to make it out of Kings Cross, but then, it always did when she or Harry were in public. One of the many burdens that came with their positions was that everyone in the British Wizarding Community knew who they were.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy visiting with her fellow witches and wizards. Having that kind of influence and personal connection was one of the things that had drawn her to the job, and she wanted to maintain a good rapport. It was just that she so often felt like she was being interrogated. 'What did she think about the recent muggle-wizarding relations debate?' 'What was her opinion of the new Muggle Prime Minister?' and probably the question she feared the most, 'Where's Ron?'

She and Harry navigated the crowds expertly, however, and arrived at her home shortly after noon.

"Thanks again for the ride Harry. Gin. I assume I'll see you in the office tomorrow Harry, and maybe we can have lunch some time next week, alright Gin?" She moved to exit the car, only to find that her door was locked.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a knowing look and then pointed their gazes towards her.

"Umm, Hermione. Is there something you want to talk to us about?" Ginny asked innocently.

Shoot. How could she have forgotten? Of course they knew. Ron had mentioned in the letter that the whole thing had been Harry's idea. And if there was something Harry Potter knew, you could almost guarantee Ginny was privy to it as well.

"I'll assume you're referring to Ron's letter… As to whether or not I want to talk about it, I'm… I'm not sure."

Harry cast her a sympathetic look. He knew her better than most, perhaps even better than Ron at times. If he knew anything about the contents of the letter, which he most likely did, he must know how heavily the whole situation was weighing on her.

"If you don't want to talk about it Mione, that's perfectly ok. Just know that Gin and I are here for you if you need anything."

Perhaps she did need to talk about it. She had so many questions, and if she could get some answers from Harry or Ginny, maybe that would enable her to get to the heart of the matter more quickly when she spoke to Ron.

"Oh alright," she conceded. "We can talk, but we're going to your house. I'm afraid to see what Rose did to my kitchen."


	5. Chapter 5: Comfort

AN: Alright, so this chapter ended up being wayyy longer than I intended! I think it might be the longest chapter I've posted so far. I had originally intended for Hermione to talk to only Harry, but I love the way so many fanfics portray Ginny as gossipy and just downright hilarious, so I figured I'd try my hand at that! And then Harry ended up being kind of goofy too:/ I hope that doesn't offend anyone, but I felt like it kinda worked

Also, two updates in one day! You're welcome! Enjoy!

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"Alright, Hermione, I know you went home with Ron last weekend, but Ron won't tell me anything, so I need all the deets. Stat!"

Hermione sat on the couch next to Ginny, while Harry sat in the recliner on the other side of their living room. She had begun to feel rather optimistic about the impending conversation on the drive here, but if Ginny's first question was any indication of how the rest of the evening would go, this was not going to be as constructive as she had hoped.

"Ginny, that's not exactly what I came here to discuss."

"I know, but just throw me a bone Hermione. This is the first even remotely interesting piece of gossip there's been in weeks, and I'm desperate. Please!"

As much as she did not want to discuss the incident with Ron, she knew there was no use arguing with Ginny when it came to matters of scandal and secrecy. She might as well give in and get it over with so that Ginny would stop pestering her about it.

"Oh alright, fine. But there's honestly not much to tell."

At that Harry quickly jumped out of his chair and bolted for the kitchen. "Call me back in when it gets less… disgusting," he called over his shoulder.

"How dare you call your best friend's sex life disgusting! What kind of friend are you Harry Potter?!" Ginny yelled after him.

"The normal kind, believe me," he hollered back.

"Ignore him," Ginny whispered, "He's become a prude in his old age."

"I heard that Ginevra!"

"Really? I guess that means your new hearing aids came in then?!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the two of them. "You're ridiculous. You know that right?"

"Oh, I know, but that's how he likes me. Believe me, it drives him wild. But we're not here to talk about _my_ sex life. We're here to discuss yours," she said, patting Hermione's leg.

"Technically we're not, but I'm being a good friend and indulging you."

"Details. Alright, so where do we begin? Oh, I know. How THE HELL did my brother manage to get your sexy ass back in his lonely bed?!"

"Ginny! I am not going to tell you anything if you insist on making everything so sordid!"

"Ok ok. I'm sorry. I'll rephrase. Dearest Hermione, how, pray tell, did thou alloweth mín pigheaded brother to beddeth thy sexy ass?"

"Oh sod off," Hermione giggled.

"I'm serious Mione! One minute you're telling me you're seriously considering filing for divorce and the next I hear you're rolling in Ron's sheets!"

"Oh I don't know Ginny… It's not that simple! There was something about being here with him and you and Harry. It was like… old times I guess. I think we both felt like we were eighteen again, so we acted like we were eighteen again. It was dumb and irresponsible, and we shouldn't have done it, but I can't take it back and it seems to have spurred on some sort of positive progression in our relationship, so maybe I don't completely regret it as much as I probably should, and—"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down there cowgirl. You're getting ahead of yourself. Why should you regret it? I mean I know you're separated and you probably have rules about that sort of thing, but he's still your husband and neither of you are seeing anyone else. You both have needs. Why not go for a romp in the sack?"

" _Because_ it complicates things Ginny. We are supposed to be exploring what it's like to be _apart_ from each other. And sex just muddies the waters. Besides, we didn't have the right intentions. We'd been drinking and we took years of anger and channeled it into sexual frustration, and it didn't solve anything!"

"Ohhh drunk angry sex. Now I'm getting a better picture. I don't have a whole lot of experience with that one, but it sounds… emotional."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Yea, a bit."

"Well, was it still good? I mean I know it's my brother we're talking about, but you always said he was pretty decent in bed. Well, you used other words but for the sake of my morality I'll stick with 'pretty' and 'decent'."

"Your morality huh? I wasn't aware you had any of that left Gin," Hermione teased. "But yea, I mean, it was fine. Good even. But I just… You know what Ginny? I thought I could talk about this, but I don't think I can. I really can't," Hermione said as she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

Where was this coming from? Why was she getting emotional? It hadn't meant anything. Had she wanted it to mean something? She wasn't sure, but she suddenly felt very hot and it was getting harder to suck in enough air.

"Hermione. Hermione are you ok? Here. Take this," Ginny said, handing her a glass of water, while fanning her face with a magazine.

"Gosh Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I should have been more sensitive. Don't worry. We don't have to talk about it anymore. I'll call Harry back in, and we can talk about what you wanted to. Ok?"

"Yea, that's fine. I'm sorry too Gin, for reacting like that. I honestly didn't realize how much talking about it would bother me. I guess maybe I haven't quite processed it all yet."

Suddenly the floo lit up, alerting them that someone was calling.

"I actually need to take that," Ginny said reluctantly, as she got up from the sofa. "I was told I'd be contacted by one of the Harpies managers some time this weekend. Why don't you go into the kitchen and talk to Harry. I'll be there in a sec."

Hermione wandered through the kitchen door and found Harry doing the dishes at the sink.

"Ginny's taking a call through the floo," she said, sitting down at the kitchen island.

Harry turned around and quickly noted her flushed cheeks and puffy eyes. "Hey now, where'd that come from. Was talking about sex with Ron really that painful?"

"You and your wife are literally the _worst_ at comforting someone. Did you know that?"

"Aww we're not that bad. We just tease. You know we love you Mione."

"I know. I know."

Ginny suddenly popped her head into the kitchen and promptly rolled her eyes at the sight of Harry washing dishes. "The managers told me to meet them down at the pitch, so I've got to go. I know I can't keep you two from talking, but Harry, if you don't relay every word she says there will be hell to pay. Love you Mione."

She gave Hermione a tight squeeze and kiss on the forehead before rushing out the door.

"God I love that woman," Harry said. "You know, it drives her absolutely bonkers when I do the dishes by hand instead of with magic. And that's precisely why I do it."

After chatting casually about the kids and ministry business for a few minutes, while Harry finished washing the dishes, Hermione decided to cut to the chase and discuss the elephant in the room.

"So... Did you read the letter?"

He looked over at her, now drying a glass with a dishrag. "Some of it," he admitted.

"How long have you known?"

"How long have I known that you were having problems or how long have I known the specifics?"

"Both."

"Well, for the first question I'd say right around eleven years old—"

"Harry that isn't funny."

"I know. I know. But you have to admit Hermione, no one ever imagined your relationship with Ron would be a walk in the park. I mean, no relationship is easy, but the two of you had some pretty significant baggage."

"And we worked through all of that _before_ we got married."

"Talked through it, maybe, but fixed it all? Erased it all? I wouldn't count on it."

"How could I have been so dense Harry?"

Harry chuckled. "Well that's not something you hear Hermione Granger-Weasley say every day, now is it?"

"I'm serious Harry… How could I have missed this? I've been moping around for a year, convinced that my husband must have just fallen out of love with me, and it turns out I've been pushing him away all this time…"

"Aww Mione…" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple. You can't place all the blame on yourself, and if that's what Ron implied, he was wrong."

"No, no he didn't say that. He admitted there was fault on both sides. That's just how it _feels_ …"

"Hermione. I hate to tell you this. But I think this feeling you're experiencing," he blinked twice, "is called 'being wrong'…. Now I know this is new for—Oof!"

She punched him in the gut and he stumbled backwards laughing, nearly dropping the bowl he was drying.

"Harry Potter, if you're not going to take this seriously I _will_ leave!"

"I'm sorry! I'm just joking Mione. I'll be serious. Promise. Don't go."

She sat back down on her stool, and he finally finished putting the dishes away and pulled up a seat across from her at the island.

"Look Mione, Ron has a lot of insecurities, insecurities about how he's perceived, about his work, about his role in your marriage, about things that extend back even before the war. To assume that those aren't real problems or that he's grown out of them is wrong. Does that justify the way he's acted? Of course not. But they're still there all the same."

"I know all of that Harry, but he never _said_ anything. He never _told_ me those things were bothering him."

"I know, and that's on him too. But surely you could tell that something was wrong?"

It was true she had often noticed Ron was unhappy, but she had been so caught up in everything else she had never taken the time to thoroughly discuss it. She'd asked him in passing if he was ok, but she wondered now if she would have actually given him the time to say all of the things that were coming out now if he'd asked her to.

"Harry, do you think I need to be 'taken down a peg,' or 'knocked off my high horse?"

Harry's eyes widened a bit and a small laugh escaped his throat, "I honestly didn't think he was going to keep that in there… Hermione, hear me out. You are so bright and so talented and so genuinely good. I mean blimey, you wouldn't have been elected Minister if you weren't those things, but all of that can come with an air of, superiority. I don't think you always mean it or even realize it, but it's there, and sometimes you come off a bit…"

He hesitated.

"Go on Harry. Spit it out."

"Critical."

She sighed. It wasn't that she was completely unaware of these aspects of her personality, but she certainly hadn't realized the large role they had played in her marriage, or rather the dissolution of her marriage.

"So what you're saying is I'm an egotistical, selfish, demeaning, nit-picking prick," she said somewhat sardonically.

"You've got it! Brightest witch of her age!"

They laughed.

"No, Hermione, what I'm saying is that you may have been a little hard on him at times. And honestly, all of this has just been exacerbated by the fact that it's been building up over years of—"

"Silence?"

"Exactly."

"So… What do I do Harry? How do I fix it."

"Now, if you're going to exploit my counseling services I'm afraid that will cost you 30 galleons per—Oww!"

She swatted him playfully across the chest.

"Alright alright. Tough crowd tonight… In all seriousness Hermione, that's up to you and Ron. I mean, you know how I feel about divorce. I've always said that once you commit yourself to someone, you should be bound for life… But I'm realizing more and more that perhaps it's not that clear cut… I know I understand you and Ron better than anyone else, but when it comes to your relationship with him, I'm just an outside observer. This decision needs to be based on _your_ opinions of your relationship, not mine."

He paused a moment, reflecting further on her question. "If, however, you both decide you want to try to mend this, it might be good to start with getting to know each other again. Maybe go on some dates. Let him move back in when you're ready. I don't know Min… This is uncharted territory for me, but for what it's worth, I truly believe that if you put in the work, things will get better."

"You don't think we're too far gone?"

"I don't."

"Do you think Ron would be willing to put in the work?"

"I think so, but there's only one way to find out for sure… Talk to him Mione. Seriously. He needs to hear from you, and I think it'd do you good to hear from him too. When he was here last night… He was a wreck Mione. He loves you. But there is a lot of stuff you two need to sift through if you want this thing to work."

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll contact him this week. Thanks Harry."

Noticing it was getting pretty late in the afternoon, she rose from the island to gather her things, but Harry placed his hands over hers and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"You know it kills me to see the two of you go through this. You're my best friends, and I just want you to be happy."

She smiled, "That's funny, Rose said pretty much the same thing last night."

"Special kid that Rose."

"I know," she smiled. She removed her hands from Harry's, and moved to collect her purse. Suddenly she remembered Hugo's comment from earlier. "Speaking of special kids, Hugo said something curious this morning."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I asked him why he was so certain Ron and I were better together than apart, and he said it was because Ron made me laugh and I made him brave. Silly, isn't it?"

"Hmm," he considered for a moment. "No Hermione, no I don't think it's that silly at all actually."

"Well, what does it mean? Me making Ron brave? When has he had to be brave? I mean, recently, that is. And why does it matter if he makes me laugh? Plenty of people make me laugh."

"I couldn't say for sure Mione. I'm not Hugo. But if I had to guess, I'd wager that perhaps bravery is more connected to strength and laughter to joy."

"I think you might have managed to make that even more cryptic."

He laughed as she gathered her things. "Think about it Hermione. I think Hugo may be onto something."

She left the kitchen and made her way to the fireplace.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I probably don't have to tell you this, but just incase, I hope you know that whatever you and Ron decide, Gin and I will support you either way."

"Thank you Harry. That means a lot to me. Thanks for everything."

"Anytime Mione. Anytime."


	6. Chapter 6: Shattered

AN: Sooo I owe you all an apology because I have had to make some minor changes to Chapters 1-3. Basically, it's been several years since I read The Cursed Child right? And I forgot that at the end of the play Ron declares that he wants to renew his marriage vows with Hermione because he was too drunk at the wedding to remember the first time they did it (he actually says that in the play… smh). So I added in some sentences that mention this and explain why they ended up separating instead. Basically, once the 'high' of being a part of the golden trio again died down, their old grievances and bitterness came back. R&H's relationship really doesn't change in Cursed Child. Their problems are still there; they had just escaped them for a little while, but they never worked through them. So, in short, they decided to take some time apart.

The changes really aren't that big, so you don't have to go back and reread Chs1-3 if you don't wish too, but I thought I'd let you know in case it comes up later!

Also, I really appreciate reviews, so let me know what you think This is the chapter where R&H finally talk, so enjoy!

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Hermione hurried down the cobblestoned streets of Diagon Alley as she rushed towards her favorite wizarding teashop. She had done as she'd promised Harry and had written Ron Monday morning to ask if he could meet her for tea Friday afternoon, as she was taking a half day from the Ministry. It wasn't something she normally did, but she hoped it would mean something to Ron.

She was surprised by how nervous she'd felt at the sight of Peruvius flying towards her office window, a scroll of parchment in hand.

" _Of course. The Bubbly Kettle?"_ he'd written.

It was small, the fact that he'd remembered it was her favorite, but it made her smile nonetheless.

Over the past week she'd mentally mapped out every possible scenario of how this conversation could go, and when she'd woken up this morning and realized the day, she thought she might be sick.

She'd meticulously picked out her outfit, a simple slimming eggplant suit jacket with a matching skirt, cream blouse, and sensible black pumps. She'd spent more time than usual trying to tame her persistently unruly hair. She'd even applied her makeup with more care, minimal though it was.

' _What's wrong with me?'_ she'd thought. Was she trying to impress him? Or was it all simply to show him how good she was doing without him? She honestly wasn't sure which option she was more ashamed of.

She'd arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which technically meant she was right on time, but it wasn't like her at all… Then she'd managed to get stuck in a meeting when she'd repeatedly told Cormac she had another engagement.

As The Bubbly Kettle came into view part of her brain prayed that Ron was still waiting for her, while the other part secretly hoped he had become impatient and left.

The doorbells chimed as she entered the shop, and it didn't take her long to spot the redhead sitting at their usual table by the window in the far corner. As she made her way over to him, she was surprised to realize she was genuinely relieved and happy to see him.

"Good afternoon Ron… It's good to see you."

She sat down in the white whicker chair across from him, and gently placed a light green cloth napkin on her lap.

"It's good to see you too Mione. Tea?"

She nodded, and he, somewhat shakily, poured her a cup of what smelled to be her favorite chamomile blend. He'd remembered. Again.

"Thank you." She decided, rather boldly, to cut to the point. "So… I umm… I got your letter."

"Oh yea? Good. That's good. I figured you did since you wanted to meet and Peruvius came back without it and he smelled like you. Of course he could have dropped it before he got to the house or flown to another witch who uses your perfume, but he's never done that before, and that perfume is pretty rare considering it's—Oh fuck it. What I'm trying to say is I'm… I'm glad. About that. That you got the letter that is."

They were both so nervous. Why were they so bloody nervous? They were two forty-three year olds who had spent the better part of the last thirty years joined at the hip. Why did it feel like they were meeting for the first time? Maybe it's because in so many ways they were…

She placed her teacup on its saucer and extended her right hand across the table. "Good morning sir. I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley. It's nice to meet you."

He hesitated at first, giving her a questioning look, but he quickly caught on and extended his own hand to shake hers, a hint of his signature lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Ronald Weasley, but you can call me Ron. It's nice to meet you ma'am."

He lowered his voice to a whisper then. "I believe it's proper for the Minister for Magic to introduce herself as such."

"Screw propriety," she retorted. "Today I'm just Hermione."

"Well, 'Just-Hermione,' it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise."

They both chuckled, and for the next fifteen minutes they were able to sit and talk comfortably about work and the kids, and Hermione was tempted to slip into their favorite game of playing pretend.

But Ron quickly reminded her why they were here, and it wasn't to sip tea and reminisce on old times.

"So about the letter…"

He looked her in the eye, as if questioning whether or not she wanted him to continue. She knew once he did the air of nonchalance they had created would be shattered. She nodded for him to go on.

"I poured my heart into those pages Hermione. I hope you know I meant every word I wrote. All of it. The good and the bad. And if I was a stronger man maybe I could be happy with that and just drop it. But I'm not, at least not when it comes to you. And… I need to know what you're thinking Mione."

"I'm thinking if I'd known that was how to get you talking, I'd have bought you a quill and parchment for your birthday a long time ago," she laughed nervously and quickly regretted making the joke.

"I'm serious Min. This is important to me. Us. You and me. It's important to me."

"It's important to me too Ron," she sighed. "Believe me. It is. I just… Goodness, now it's me who doesn't have words. I'm not really sure where to start."

She realized she'd been staring at her fidgeting thumbs, but when she looked up to meet his gaze she was met with a look so intense, so pleading, she thought her heart might break.

"God Ron, don't look at me like that, like you're a starving dog waiting for me to throw you a bone… I _appreciate_ the letter ok."

"You _appreciate_ it? _Appreciate_ ," he murmured to himself as if tasting the word to discover it's true meaning.

"I pour my heart and soul out to you in parchment and ink, and all you can say is you _appreciate_ it?!" he said banging his fist on the table, rewarding them a few 'Shhhs' from the surrounding parties.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but that's just not bloody good enough. If that's all you have to say, then I think we're done here."

He pushed his chair back and stood to leave, but not before she reached out to grab his arm, knocking her half-filled teacup off the table in the process.

"Damn it!" she muttered as the hot liquid seared her thigh, and the cup shattered on the tile floor.

Suddenly she was on her knees with Ron kneeling down in front of her as she desperately tried to pick up every tiny shard, which was proving to be rather difficult considering her vision was currently blurred by a sea of tears.

"Hermione, are you ok? Hermione stop, you're going to cut yourself. Hermio—"

"I'm sorry!" she cried, leaning forward to bury her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry about it all! For not asking if you wanted to quit your job, for not checking in to see how you were handling everything, for not being around enough when the kids were small, for not making time for you, for making you feel inferior. For being critical and controlling and all those other things!"

She was shaking as she felt his arms wrap tightly around her, and she could feel what was most likely him motioning to the waitress to leave them alone. The remainder of the teacup shards fell from her trembling hands.

"You should have told me Ron. I understand why you felt like you couldn't, but it would have been so much better to just talk to me instead of shutting me out."

"I know Min. I know."

He was soothingly stroking her hair and her back, and she didn't want to move, but she knew they were causing a scene. Unless she wanted her meltdown on the cover of Witches Weekly, it was probably time to go.

Ron obviously felt the same. "Come on Mione. Let's get out of here."

He gently raised her to her feet and escorted her to the front entrance of the café, paid for the tea on their way out, and swiftly apparated them to a nearby park.

They stood there for a moment, her face pressed tightly against his chest. And he seemed content to hold her in silence until her breathing began to slow.

Finally, he broke the silence. "It wasn't _all_ your fault Hermione. I'm sure you know that, but in case you've forgotten, I am sure I can refresh your memory of my many mistakes. They're countless I reckon… I do, however, _appreciate_ the apology."

She could all but see the smirk on his face, and she tilted her head up to confirm its presence. She took a deep breath and chuckled bitterly. "I suppose I deserved that one, didn't I?"

"A bit."

She broke their embrace and accepted the handkerchief he offered her. "I'm sorry about the scene I caused back there. I don't know what came over me. God Ron, I don't know what's come over me the past couple weeks. I'm an emotional wreck, and I can't seem to keep it all in."

He shrugged. "You've spent your whole life keeping yourself together for everyone else Hermione. I imagine you were bound to break at some point."

"Yes, I suppose… But it's not just that. I more than _appreciated_ the letter Ron. I don't know why I even said that. It was such a relief to get a glimpse into your head and to finally understand what's been going on in there for the past few years… But I'll admit, it was hard too. Those things you wrote about me, about the way I treated you, about how I made you feel… I've always tried so hard to do what was best for everyone, including you… How could I have been so completely wrong?"

They let her statement hang in the air as they both pondered the things they'd done and those they wished they could undo.

Ron moved to walk along the path, and she followed beside him, both content to remain quiet as to not break the silence too soon.

It was she who broke the silence this time.

"You wrote that sometimes I think too much with my head and not enough with my heart, and I think there may be some truth to that."

He simply nodded and they continued on down the path, around the small pond.

It suddenly occurred to her that the last time they came to this park had been to discuss the terms of their separation. Was that a coincidence? She assumed not.

"It's been a year since we separated you know? We had originally planned to discuss how we were doing after a year."

He remained silent, but she could tell by the look on his face that the significance of where they stood was not lost on him. She pressed on.

"So how are you doing? With the separation?"

"Do you want the truth?" he finally replied.

"Of course I do. Whatever it is. I can take it." She hoped she could, that is.

"Alright. Truth is Min, the first six months or so were pretty great. I felt free. I went to bed every night without brushing my teeth and didn't have to worry about you explaining how plaque formation was going to destroy my enamel. I woke up every morning and made waffles with butter AND syrup and didn't have to worry about you lecturing me on my carb intake and low density lipo—Damn it. Cholesterol! Normal people call it cholesterol. And every time I felt like making a joke or mentioning something from The Daily Prophet or discussing the Chudley Cannons or heaven forbid even commenting on the damned weather, I did it! And I didn't have to worry about how you would somehow make me feel like a complete imbecile in the process."

Hermione did her best not to say something hurtful back, no matter how badly she wanted to say she hoped he had a cavity. She had wanted him to talk, and now she was getting it.

"That all sounds pretty perfect Ron… What is it exactly that changed your mind?"

"You."

"Excuse me?" she choked out.

"I said _you_ Hermione… It was bloody you."

"I'm sorry Ron, but I don't unders—"

"I couldn't get you out of my head ok! I didn't _have_ to worry about those things Mione, but I _did_. I heard your voice every bloody day, no matter how hard I tried to block it out. But after those first six months, I didn't _want_ to block it out. Because as much as that stuff drove me crazy, at least I had someone to share it with. Talking about Quidditch or the bloody clouds isn't really all it's cracked up to be if you're just talking to yourself."

"You could have found someone else Ron. We discussed that. It would have been ok."

"I know. I know… And I thought about it. I even went on a few dates. But I realized pretty quickly I didn't want just anyone Mione… I wanted you."

"Didn't you just finish describing how completely insane I drove you?! Why would you want that back?"

"I don't know Hermione… I was still so angry with you… And I didn't want _that_ aspect of our relationship back… But you'd been such a huge part of my life for so long…"

She nodded knowingly. She had experienced the same. "You missed the familiarity."

"Yea, yea I guess I did."

They walked in silence for a bit before he continued.

"And then we went to Harry's for that stupid game night, and you seemed so happy and content and so much like the girl I'd fallen in love with, and I realized I was miserable with you and miserable without you, but for some reason I preferred being miserable with you than without."

She laughed. "Well, it's not the most romantic thing you've ever said, but it makes sense I suppose… I wasn't happy, by the way. If I seemed that way it was only because I was relieved to finally be back in an environment where I knew my role."

"Familiarity."

"Exactly… Trying to navigate my life without you in it has proven to be a greater challenge than I anticipated."

"I guess the question now is, is that enough?"

"Is what enough?"

"Familiarity. It seems like we both missed the familiarity of having each another around, but is that enough to rebuild a relationship on?"

She thought for a moment before giving him her response.

"Familiarity alone? No, I don't think so. Things that are familiar for a time eventually fade and are replaced by new constants and a new state of normalcy."

"Mmm," he murmured.

Not wanting to beat around the bush any longer, she asked the question that had been rattling in the back of her mind since she read his letter. "Do you want to rebuild our relationship Ron?"

He stopped walking then and turned to look at her. "I honestly don't know Mione. Part of me does. Part of me would give anything in the world for a chance to do that. But another part of me knows that it would require us to change, and I'm not convinced we can."

When had he become so wise? This whole conversation she'd had with him today, the things he'd revealed in the letter, it was so unlike him. She wondered if perhaps it was really she who needed to change, because the man standing beside her seemed born anew.

"Before I forget, I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For not letting the kids hate me."

"What?"

"I asked them the other morning if it ever bothered them that I wasn't around much when they were small, and they said that you never let them think ill of me, that you always reminded them how much I loved them, even when I wasn't there. Thank you, for doing that. It honestly means the world to me."

"You were their mother Mione. And you did love them. You did your bloody best to be there for them as much as you could. Besides, I couldn't raise them thinking poorly of the best witch I've ever known."

She smiled but a heavy sigh came with it. "What are we going to do Ron?"

"Well… Do _you_ want to rebuild our relationship?"

She had thought about her answer to this response so many times over the past five days… Did she? Could she forgive him? Could she forgive herself? Could she afford to let herself love a man who had hurt her so deeply again? Could she afford not to?

"I think—I think I'd like to try Ron. But if we do, I'd like to take things slow. I love you, but I'm not ready to have you back in my life all at once. Harry suggested rebuilding a friendship and working our way to dating and maybe moving back in together, and I think that's a good idea."

He nodded his head slowly, processing. "It's not ideal, but I think I can make that work. I'd be willing to try anyways. I love you too Hermione. And I suppose if there's even a chance we could make this work, we owe it to ourselves as well as the kids to give it our best shot."

"Agreed."


	7. Chapter 7: Sailing

AN: I know this chapter is probably more exposition than you are wanting, but I wanted to take a slight break from the relationship heaviness and just explore Ron and Hermione outside of their relationship with each other. I personally really like where it went, and I did give you some cute romancy stuff at the end I almost left it out, so you're welcome… Honestly I think this is my favorite chapter that I've written so far…

As always, enjoy! And leave me a comment pleeeaasseee!

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Hermione sat on the sofa in the living room, flipping through a copy of Romilda Quill's most recent book on wizarding-muggle relations, _The Muggle in the Room_. It had been causing quite the stir in the British as well as foreign wizarding communities, so she wanted to give it her full attention. Unfortunately, she figured she had read the same sentence at least twenty times in the last half hour.

After her conversation with Ron the day before, they had decided to go out to dinner at one of their favorite London restaurants tonight. They hadn't called it a 'date,' but she knew that's what it was, and her stomach was in knots. She was still puzzled as to why she kept getting so anxious and flustered every time she was to be around him.

It was probably because, in many ways, it felt like they were starting over, like she was dating him for the first time. And yet, he was still Ron, the person she'd spent the last thirty years of her life with. What could they possibly have to discuss? Even as she asked it, she knew it was a dumb question. There was so much… But where to start?

Ron's knock at the door pulled her from her ponderings, and she hurriedly got up to grab her purse and coat and opened the door.

"Evenin Mione."

Seeing him in the doorway reminded her of the very different circumstances under which they had been standing in these same positions just two weeks earlier.

"Good evening Ron," she said with a nervous smile.

"Should I take that as an indication of your expectations for tonight?" he said, nodding towards her hand.

She blushed as she realized that she was still clutching Romilda's book.

"Oh, no! No, sorry, I didn't realize I was still holding it," she chuckled embarrassingly.

He took the book from her and studied the cover as he stepped in the house, shutting the door behind him as he slipped by her. He did it so nonchalantly, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for him to do, but now that she thought of it, he hadn't been past the entryway in over a year… The image of him crossing the threshold into their home seemed to symbolize him stepping back into her life, and perhaps… her heart.

" _The Muggle in the Room,_ huh?" he asked conversationally. "I've heard a lot of buzz about this one, and you know a book must be popular if it's made it onto my radar! Any good?"

Was Ronald Weasley asking for her opinion on a _book_? She nearly pinched herself to make sure she hadn't nodded off while waiting for him.

"Umm, yea! I haven't finished it quite yet, but what I've read has been very well put. It's a touchy topic, obviously, but Romilda brings up a lot of valid points. She's admittedly on the more progressive as opposed to traditionalist side of the argument, but she addresses alternative perspectives and is rather generous towards them in my opinion. Your father would have enjoyed it I think."

She immediately regretted mentioning Arthur. It was nearly two years since they had lost him that March, just before Ron's 41st birthday she remembered. It had been so hard on him, and she knew it still hurt. Arthur had barely reached seventy-one, which was young by even muggle standards. Unfortunately, not even magic had a cure for cancer. It could delay it for a while, but not indefinitely.

She noticed a somber look pass over Ron's face, but other than that he didn't seem too phased.

"Ah yea. I bet dad would've," he smiled, setting the book down on the mantle. "Anything to do with muggles yuh know…" He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps memories, for a moment. "Well as much as I'd love to stand around and chat muggle-wizard politics all night, I actually don't think I would," he laughed. "So let's go eat, yea?"

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Dinner had been nice. Ron had reserved a table at their favorite Italian restaurant in London, and he'd splurged on a decently priced bottle of wine, which they had finished off perhaps a bit too easily. They'd even gotten desert (the best tiramisu in Britain)!

But, surprisingly, the best part of the evening had actually been the conversation. She'd been so worried they'd have nothing to talk about, but Ron seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say, and she found she felt the same about him.

He'd gone into more detail about his work at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and the new products he and George were creating: a set of magical coloring books for children where the pictures quite literally leapt off the page and a new line of chameleon-like clothing that would theoretically allow the wearer to blend into any background.

He was most excited, however, about a pair of special glasses he was working on. He said they'd started out as joke glasses that rearranged the letters and words in each sentence the reader read, creating entirely different and comical meanings. He'd realized, however, that at times the glasses seemed to improve his own reading abilities. With a few extra charms and slight modifications, he was reading faster than he'd ever dreamed possible.

With as much difficulty as Ron had had in school and his complete aversion to any sort of reading later in life, she had often suspected he might be slightly dyslexic. But he'd get so defensive any time she brought it up, so eventually she'd stopped asking. He'd actually apologized to her for that tonight, saying he'd meant to bring it up earlier but had been too embarrassed.

He'd gone on to describe how George's wife, Angelina, was helping him with a patent and that he and George were in the process of gathering a cohort of witches and wizards to test them on. He'd explained how excited he was to be inventing something that had the potential to actually improve someone's quality of life long-term, instead of just making them laugh for a moment.

Proud hardly described what she'd felt in that moment. She'd, of course, always been proud of the work he'd done, both in the shop and with the kids, but she'd always known he had the potential for greatness if he applied himself.

He'd asked her about life at the Ministry, and she'd been as honest as she could be without sounding like she was complaining. Things were difficult. There was a lot of change in the air these days, and like most great periods of transition, there seemed to be equal numbers of individuals for and against every step they tried to take. That was one reason she was so excited about young witches and wizards like Romilda who were daring to speak out. She strongly believed that those voices would be the ones to finally turn the tide.

With all of that, however, came a lot of pressure on her. When she had started her career in The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she had been rather outspoken and fought tooth and nail for what she believed was right. She'd achieved nearly total equality for both elves and werewolves during her short four years in the department. Her time in The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been no different.

But now, every time she declared a 'side' she risked alienating a decent proportion of the British wizarding community. While she would never condone Cornelius Fudge's actions during her time at Hogwarts, she found herself having more sympathy for his position than she had in the past. It was tempting to give people what they wanted to hear or to simply keep things the way they were for fear of 'muddying the waters.'

But, ultimately, she knew she would be betraying who she was as a person if she chose to act out of cowardice, and more than that she would be betraying the very witches and wizards who trusted her to make decisions in their best interest, even if they didn't always agree on what that was. That meant she was taking more 'risks' and going off of more 'gut decisions' than she would prefer, but she knew she could logic herself in circles all day if she wanted to, and eventually decisions have to be made.

"Whatcha thinkin bout in there Min?"

She hadn't realized she'd leaned her head over onto Ron's shoulder or that he was stroking her hair as they sat in the back of the Uber. She almost sat up, but decided against it.

"Oh, nothing. Just stuff. You, me…"

"Relationship stuff?"

They hadn't spoken much about their relationship tonight, and frankly it had been refreshing. There conversations had been so heavy recently, and it was nice to talk about something else for a change. She knew relationship talks were inevitable, but if they were going to try to rebuild one, it was important that they get to know one another again, and she felt like that's exactly what they'd done.

She laughed. "No, actually. No, I was just thinking about how far we've both come over the last twenty years. We both had ideas and dreams when we left Hogwarts, and it's just neat to see how things have worked out. Maybe things haven't gone exactly as we'd hoped, but I'd say we've done pretty good for ourselves. I guess I'm just… proud of the people we've become. Not all of it, but most of it."

He thought for a moment before responding. "I'm proud of us too Hermione. Overall. I know we've made mistakes along the way, and unfortunately a lot of those were with each other, but I hope you know you're allowed to make mistakes. Whether it's with me or with work or even with the kids. No one expects you to be perfect, except perhaps you. It may seem that way sometimes, but you're human. You're allowed to mess up."

"I know," she whispered. "I just don't want to let anyone down. I don't want them to think less of me."

He moved the hand that had been stroking her hair down to her shoulder and squeezed her gently to his side. "Those who truly know you, never will. And those who don't, well, they're entitled to their own opinion I suppose, but they're daft if they don't see how desperately you fight for what you believe is right. Frankly, Hermione, you will never be able to please everyone, but if you are true to yourself, well, you've done the best you can do."

She sighed into his words. How is it that with a few sentences he'd managed to make her feel light as a feather, as if all her worries had simply disapparated into thin air.

"You've always been too hard on yourself you know?" he murmured as he gently leaned down to place a kiss on her temple.

"And you've always been to hard on _yourself_ ," she replied, looking up to meet his gaze, "Just, for different reasons, I suppose."

"What do you mean by that," he asked curiously.

She looked back down and studied her hands as they fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "You've never thought that you were good enough. Always felt like you came in last place to me or to Harry or even to your brothers and sisters, but that's just not true. You never saw what the rest of us saw in you, what _I_ saw in you."

"And what's that?" he whispered, holding his breath.

"Your loyalty to those you love, your bravery in the face of danger, your cleverness and ingenuity, your ability to find the humor in every situation, the way you encourage others to see the best in themselves even if you don't see it in you… Your _heart_ Ron…"

With her last sentence she raised her head to look up at him again, and she saw what she thought might be tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

The car suddenly stopped, and she realized they were back home. Ron thanked the driver and gestured for Hermione to stay put so he could open her door. As he stepped out, the driver turned around to face her.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward mum, but I just wanted to say how encouraging it is to see a couple who has obviously been together as long as you have still be so in love."

"Oh," she managed, taken by surprise. "Well, thank you… It—It's certainly not easy, but when you really love someone, I suppose you find ways to make it work."

Ron opened her door then, and she took his arm as they walked to the front door.

When she finally got the door unlocked she turned to tell him goodnight, but he cut her off before she could speak. 

"Thank you Hermione, for tonight. This is the best night I've had in years, honest… And I find myself not wanting it to end…"

She suddenly found herself dreading where he was going with this.

"Ron, I don't think it's a good idea t—"

"No, Hermione, it's not that. I know you want to take things slow, and I respect that… It's just…" He ran a hand through his hair and then brusquely extended it to her. "Hermione, may I have this dance?"

"What?!" she said through a laugh.

"I _said_ , may I have this dance?"

"But there's no _music_ Ron!"

"Ah, well luckily we have this thing called magic, so I think I can fix that."

He took her hand and led her into the living room where he promptly transfigured the centerpiece on the coffee table into a record player and the stack of magazines next to it into a pile of records.

"Going old school are we Ron?" she asked smugly.

"Only the best for you Mione."

He twirled her around then, and she heard the beginning notes of one of their favorite songs begin to play: "Dance With Me" by Orleans.

She giggled as Ron spun her around the room, singing the chorus loudly and off key with a dopey grin on his face. " _Dance with me! I want to be your partner, can't you see… The music is just starting. Night is falling, and I am falling. Dance with me!_ "

"You had this planned the whole time, didn't you?!" she laughed.

"What can I say Hermione, I fell in love with you on a dance floor…" he said through a grin.

She found herself singing along and actually enjoying herself, even if they did nearly knock a lamp off an end table. It had been so long since they'd been carefree enough to truly enjoy each another's company, and she couldn't remember the last time they had danced. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed being swept up in his arms. He might not be the most graceful dancer, but once the music was playing and his hips were swaying (alcohol didn't hurt either), any inhibitions he may have had disappeared.

When the song finally ended, they were both laughing and completely out of breath. They certainly weren't as young as they used to be. She took a step back to break their embrace, but Ron held her against him, staring intensely into her eyes, as he used his wand to change the song.

At the first sound of the strings, Hermione's breath caught in her throat and tears instantly began to prick at the back of her eyes.

As Christopher Cross's "Sailing" filled the room, Hermione's memory was overrun with images of her father spinning her around the kitchen to the song as she balanced on his toes; images of her crying as she listened to it in her room during her early days at Hogwarts when she had yet to make a friend; images of her and Ron sharing their favorite music in the Gryffindor common room; and several images of Ron surprising her with the song and offering her his hand before sweeping her off her feet. Finally, she arrived at the image of herself and Ron on their wedding night, surrounded by their closest friends and family, dancing beneath the stars to this song.

"If it's too soon or doesn't feel right, I understand," Ron spoke. "I just know it's your favorite… And I've come to love it myself..."

A single tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it.

"Oh Mione, I didn't mean to make you cry. We can stop."

He moved to pull away, but she quickly jerked him back, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms over his shoulders and around his neck.

"No, it's alright," she sighed. "I'm just… happy."

He gently enveloped her in his arms, pressing her even tighter into himself, resting his chin atop her head as they swayed to the familiar tune. She was reminded of how well they _fit_.

" _Sailing, takes me away to where I've always heard it could be. Just a dream and the wind to carry me, and soon I will be free_ ," she sang quietly.

"I love you Hermione Granger-Weasley," Ron whispered.

"And I love you," she heard herself respond.


	8. Chapter 8: Unexpected Advice

AN: Hey everyone! I don't think this website shows how many views your story has gotten, but this story has hit over 1,000 views, and I'm so grateful! It makes me happy to know that old and new people are continuing to read this story from week to week.

I apologize for the late update. I've been trying to have at least a weekly update, but I've been on Spring Break and didn't get any writing done.

In this chapter, Hermione receives some advice from a person she least expected.

As always, I'd love to hear your critique, so make sure to leave a comment!

Enjoy

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 _I love you._

As Hermione sat at her desk in the Minister's office Monday morning, those three words repeated themselves over and over in her mind.

She did love him, didn't she? Of course she did. He was her best friend. He'd been like a brother to her for most of her life. Of course she loved him. But was she _in love_ with him? That was the question, wasn't it…

After their dancing had begun to wind down, she'd mentioned she was tired, and Ron had left soon after. He hadn't asked to stay the night. He hadn't even tried to kiss her. Part of her was grateful and respected him for that, but another part wondered what she would have said if he had asked. Had she wanted him to?

" _Ugh!_ " she thought, as she physically shook her head. This was ridiculous! She was 43 years old and held one of the most revered and demanding positions in the entire wizarding world. She didn't have time to be acting like a lovesick, emotionally confused, teenage girl.

 _Knock Knock_

 _Who could that be?_ She glanced down at her calendar and didn't see any appointments scheduled for this hour. She decided to buzz her secretory before unlocking her door to a stranger.

"Tina, who is standing outside my office?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry ma'am," Tina replied promptly. "He said you'd know he was coming and that I wasn't to mention his name," she said nervously.

Hermione waited as she heard Tina whispering indistinctly but clearly exasperatedly to the mystery person outside her door.

"Tina?"

"Oh, so sorry! So sorry, again, ma'am. He told me to say—mind you, these are his words not mine— _filthy mudblood?_ "

She said the words so quietly Hermione could barely make them out, but as soon as she did, she knew exactly who stood outside.

"Tell Mr. Malfoy he can come in…" she sighed, rolling her eyes as she unlocked the door with her wand.

The tall blonde sauntered into her office with his signature smirk plastered on his face, clearly amused by the slight commotion he had caused.

"Draco Malfoy. What a surprise. To what do I owe the… pleasure?" Hermione said, feigning a slight smirk of her own and hoping he wouldn't notice her state of distress. What could Malfoy want to see her about? While they had mended a lot of the broken bones that existed between them in the past, she hadn't seen much of him since Rose's 4th year.

More importantly, how had he managed to gain access to her office without an appointment or even an introduction? Bloody Malfoys. The rules the rest of society had to abide by never seemed to apply to them did they? She guessed some things never changed…

"Good morning Granger—I mean Minister," he said embarrassingly as he corrected himself. "Sorry. Old habits die hard I suppose… Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Damn him… Of course he would notice she wasn't all right.

"No, no. I'm fine… Just thinking… I have a lot on my mind. There's a lot going on around here these days. Although, would it kill you to schedule an appointment like a normal person?"

"I don't think I've ever known you _not_ to be thinking about something Gran—shit, I mean Minister. Salazar, I didn't think I'd be this nervous."

She saw then that he was wringing his hands together, and his right leg was shaking a bit. She hadn't noticed it when he first entered, but behind that smirk was something akin to genuine worry, a look she had observed only a handful of times from him.

"And, yes, I think it might have indeed _killed_ me to schedule an appointment," he said flippantly. "It was too short notice, and this was too important to risk you saying no or to risk anyone unnecessary learning of my business here."

His _business_ here? What was he getting at? Worry began to slowly creep up her spine.

"It's alright Draco, there's no need to be anxious. Why don't you take a seat," she said gently, gesturing to the chair in front of her. And you may call me Hermione, you know. We've been through enough together, I'd say a first name basis is warranted."

"No. No, I think I'd prefer Minister. This is a serious matter, and things like this should be handled formally."

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy," she said, reverting to his last name. "You're beginning to scare me. Would you care to enlighten me on what this _business_ is you are here for?"

"Something has happened at Hogwarts."

She stiffened suddenly, panic immediately coursing through her veins as the faces of Rose, Hugo, James, Albus, and Lilly all raced through her mind, one after the other. Not again.

"What's happened?" she said sharply, quickly rising from her chair.

"Oh sit down, sit down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It's nothing like that. The children are all fine. A little shaken perhaps, but they'll be alright."

She let out a deep breath as she sunk back down in her seat. "Can you please just cut to the chase Mr. Malfoy, preferably before you give me another heart attack?"

"It's professor Slughorn. He's died. While teaching class, no less. He always did have to be the center of attention…"

"Oh. Oh, that's awful," she replied, a little embarrassed by the hint of relief in her voice.

Horace Slughorn had never been her favorite instructor at Hogwarts, mainly due to his vanity, but she'd gained a respect for him after his actions during the war. In any case, it was always sad to hear that someone she'd been connected to at school had passed. But she wouldn't deny she was grateful none of the children had found themselves in any serious trouble again.

"Yes, I suppose it is. The students in the class were certainly quite shaken up about it, or so Scorpius tells me."

So that's how he knew.

"Look, I don't mean to be insensitive, but I know as soon as this news is made public, there will be a host of witches and wizards vying for his position, and I don't intend to compete with the masses."

Always a step ahead of everyone else… Some things truly never did change. But wait? Had she understood him correctly? Was Draco Malfoy vying for a position at Hogwarts?

"Do my ears deceive me or is Draco Malfoy seeking out a job as Hogwart's next Potions Master?"

"Oh, don't act like it's that surprising."

"But it is! I'm sorry… This is just quite unexpected. I'm not sure I believe it. Is there an ulterior motive I should be made aware of?"

"No. There's no _ulterior motive_ ," he grumbled, looking down at his shoes through a scowl. "Forgive me for wanting to have a real job for once in my life."

"I didn't think the phrase _real job_ existed in the Malfoy vocabulary," she said jokingly, though she realized too late that Malfoy was clearly not in the mood for jokes.

He rose suddenly. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here. I am sorry to have wasted your time."

"Malfoy wait," she said seriously. "I'm sorry. It's been a strange couple of weeks, and you just… You caught me off guard. That's all. I'm not being myself. Please, take a seat."

He hesitated but reluctantly retook the seat in front of her.

"You'll have to answer a question for me though, because I'm not sure I quite understand. Why are you coming to me for this? Isn't this something better discussed with Head Mistress McGonagall? I'm quite sure I'm the _last_ person you want to come begging to."

He stared at her seriously for a moment, as if weighing whether or not he should explain everything himself or wait for her to figure it out. He must have settled on the former. "You're right. You are the last person I want to come begging to, so that should tell you how serious I am about this. Besides, I think you and I both know why I can't go to McGonagall without seeing you first. It's the same reason why I didn't want your secretary announcing my name to the whole bloody Ministry."

As the pieces began to fall into place, she realized, of course, that he was right. The public would be extremely reluctant to accept a Malfoy in any position of authority over their children. Scorpius had had a hard enough time merely as a student. She couldn't imagine the backlash Draco would receive as a professor. It would take an arm and a leg to convince McGonagall he was worth the investment… No. It would take her.

"Too true," she murmured. "But why Potions Master? I've never seen you as the teaching sort, and I would have thought you'd do whatever you could to avoid stepping foot on Hogwarts grounds again."

He was quick to supply an answer, which showed her he'd actually thought about this a great deal. "I always enjoyed Potions in school, and if you remember, I was rather good at it. After years without any sort of normal employment outside of my father's line of work ( _she had yet to figure out what exactly that was_ ) and considering the damage my family has enacted upon this community in the past, I've decided it's high time I make some sort of positive contribution. What better way to do that than through doing something I love and training the next generation of witches and wizards in the process?"

"Well…" she murmured, momentarily at a loss for words. "That's very… noble of you. I'll see if I can arrange a meeting with Professor McGonagall to discuss my thoughts on the situation."

"And what are your _thoughts_ on the situation," he questioned.

She pondered her answer for a moment. "I think you are not the same Draco Malfoy I knew at Hogwarts. You proved that to me two years ago. I also think you're being genuine when you say you want to leave a positive mark on our community. The way you've raised your son has shown me that. But. Convincing Professor McGonagall that you are worth the risk will be no easy task, and convincing the public to trust you will be even harder."

"I assumed as much," he said flatly, "but I appreciate your willingness to try."

"This really means something to you, doesn't it?"

"It does. Obviously I have no need for the money… But ever since Astoria died, having a place where I belong, where I know I serve a real purpose, where I know I'm doing some good, where I can set a good example for my son… As much as it pains me to say it, that matters to me, in a way it never seemed to matter to my father."

"I believe you," she said firmly, looking him in the eye as she searched for any hint of deceit or flicker of doubt. She found none. "As I said, I'll see what I can do as quickly as possible, but try not to be too disappointed if not even I can work magic to fix this one."

He grinned bitterly. "You don't have to worry about that Minister. I'm afraid disappointment has become a rather constant companion to me over the years. But, I'm confident my wishes are in good hands. If the great Hermione Granger can't accomplish something, I'm convinced it must truly be impossible."

Had Draco Malfoy just paid her a compliment? She was honestly taken aback by his kindness. A small voice in the back of her mind, however, couldn't help but wonder if his motives and words were completely true?

"It's still Weasley you know," she said without thinking. In the early years of her marriage she would vehemently correct anyone who said her maiden name unknowingly or by mistake, but in recent years she admitted she'd grown a bit more careless. She was surprised, therefore, when the correction sprung out of her mouth so quickly.

"What was that?"

She sat up a bit straighter in her chair, a small sense of pride returning as she restated her last name. She was the wife of Ronald Weasley. And he loved her. _She hoped._ And she loved him. _She prayed_.

"You said Hermione Granger. But I haven't been Granger for many years now. Sorry, it's a little thing, I know, but it... It matters to me."

He was silent for a moment, and the way he stared at her made her feel as if he was trying to puzzle her out. She wondered if he would question her or press the matter further. She hoped he would let it go. She was tired of discussing her marriage with everyone she ran into these days.

"As it should," he replied finally. "My apologies. One's name is one of the most valuable possessions a person can own in my opinion. I should have been more careful."

 _Whew… Thank Godric._

"Although,"

 _Shit_

"I must admit, your marriage to the Weasel is not one I would have counted on lasting as long as it seems to have…"

 _Don't take the bait. DON'T TAKE THE BAIT_.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" _Shit_

He flashed her a genuine smile, one that surprisingly put her nerves at ease.

"I only mean that I, like many others, was surprised when the brightest witch of our age chose Ronald Weasley as her closest companion in this life. I know I was biased considering my history with him, but I didn't think he could challenge you the way you deserved to be challenged. But I, like many others, figured you saw something in him that those on the outside couldn't."

Ron _had_ challenged her, hadn't he? Maybe not academically, but he'd always pushed her to follow her dreams and to be the best version of herself, in the beginning at least. And she _had_ seen something in him that most others couldn't, hadn't she? _T_ _hat's_ the Ron she'd fallen in love with. The Ron that was _her_ Ron, and no one else's.

"But I'm no fool Hermione. I can tell when a relationship is on the rocks. And I could see on the platform the day Astoria ( _he hesitated when he said her name_ ) and I first sent Scorpius off to Hogwarts six years ago that you were both tired, that something was off."

She expected him tear her apart then, to call her out on the lie she'd been living. She expected him to confirm all of her doubts and tell her that she and Ron had never been right for each other and that they both deserved better.

He stared at her again with that look that made her feel like some sort of code he was trying to break. Finally, he spoke.

"If you ever loved him, if you love him at all now, fix it."

 _What?_

"If my parents taught me anything of value, and believe me the list is short, it's that love is one of the most important things we can give and receive in this life. Astoria and Scorpius have confirmed that a hundred times over. We rarely deserve it, and those we give it to are no more deserving. But when you find someone who is willing to share that love with you, you hold on, and you hold on tight."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was Draco Malfoy giving her marriage advice? And could it possibly be some of the best advice she'd been given?

"Astoria and I… We didn't have a perfect marriage. There were rough patches. I brought so much baggage to that table, and I asked her to carry more than I should have. And, oh, was she strong-willed. She was a lot like you actually. Maybe not as gifted academically, but when it came to fighting for what she believed was right, there was hardly room to argue with her. One of the things we fought about most was her desire to conceive, and I realize now that even though having Scorpius weakened her to the point of losing her life, it was the best decision she ever convinced me to make."

He was crying now, and she could feel tears welling up in her own eyes.

"I'm sorry Minister," he said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. "This isn't proper of me, and I have no right to be saying any of this… It's just… I saw you and Weasley two years ago. And while, yes, there was a definite façade there, there was also something genuine, something real that wasn't completely destroyed or lost yet. The way you defended his name just now. That's not nothing. I don't pretend to understand the struggles you two have faced. You brought your own fair share of baggage to the table. But if there's any shred of hope there… Fight for it. I know I'm the last person you probably thought you'd hear say it, but I think it's one of the greatest things in this world worth fighting for."

"Draco Malfoy…" she sniffed, "Are you telling me to fight for love?"

"I am," he said without a shadow of doubt.


	9. Chapter 9: You Can't be Serious

Well, I apologize for the long hiatus. School -_- But, here is the ninth chapter of Silence for you lovely readers who are still giving this story a chance

I know some people weren't happy about the whole Draco thing, but he's one of my favorite characters and he played such a pivotal role in 'Cursed Child' that I couldn't help but have him make an appearance in my story. Plus, I find the idea of him giving Hermione advice on love to be quite endearing… I know it may have seemed CRAZY for Hermione to even consider making Draco a Hogwarts professor, but I hope this chapter offers some clarity into her thought process! BUT for those of you who still don't agree, good 'ol Harry steps in as the voice of reason;)

And for those of you who were worried I was getting away from the Romione stuff, don't fret! Their relationship is discussed here, and there will be some more romantic action between them in future chapters, perhaps even the next one;)

As always, leave me a comment! Lumos!

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"Wait wait wait. Repeat everything you just said and repeat it _slowly_."

"I'm considering proposing to Headmistress McGonagall that Draco Malfoy be granted the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts."

"That's what I thought you said," Harry said through a grimace.

He was pacing back and forth in front of her desk when suddenly he whipped out his wand and began muttering incantations under his breath.

"What in Merlin do you think you're doing Harry Potter?!"

"Checking for enchantments. You _must_ be under some sort of curse because the Hermione I know would _never_ suggest something so utterly ridiculous! What are you thinking Hermione?! You _can't_ be serious right now!"

"I'll have you know I am _completely_ serious, and I'd prefer it if you were as well."

He lowered his wand and crossed his arms over his chest. "You better have a good explanation for where all of this is coming from."

"Well if you'd _calm down_ and listen, maybe I'd give you one!"

"Fine," he said, taking a seat. "Shoot."

"We are living in a time of _change_ Harry. The balance between purebloods and half bloods and muggleborns and squibs and all sorts of magical creatures, even muggles, is _changing_! People are more open and accepting than they have been in centuries! Draco Malfoy isn't the same conflicted boy we knew twenty years ago… And you of all people should know that! He was raised in an environment that _brainwashed him_ into believing things that he fully admits to be lies, and now he's changed his tune. Is he a saint? God no. Does this absolve him of his crimes? Of course not. But why shouldn't he be given a second chance? If anything this could serve to soften people's feelings towards purebloods. It could show them that they aren't all racist purists, and that even some of those who were fooled by Voldemort have seen the error of their ways. If _we_ forgive them, maybe they will too."

Harry appeared unconvinced, and she could tell he was still fuming as he considered her words.

"I'm not saying you can't give Draco a second chance Hermione… Although I'd say the fact he's not rotting in Azkaban is proof he's already been given one. What I _am_ saying is that allowing him to teach at Hogwarts is _not_ a good idea! While we may be living in a time of _change_ , we are also living in an era that is trying to move _away_ from the radical ideals of a crazy man and to _heal_ from the destruction he caused. And _you're_ suggesting we place one of his most well-known followers in a position that gives him considerable influence over _children_! What about that sounds like a good idea to you Hermione?! I don't _care_ if Malfoy's changed his _tune_ or his _step_. He could have written a goddamn musical, and it wouldn't change my opinion! And I _guarantee_ you the majority of our community will side with me on this."

She felt her own frustration bubbling to the surface.

" _Yes_ , they _will_ Harry! That's why I called you in here! Because whatever the _chosen_ one says is what the majority of people will agree with! Honestly I don't know why Draco even came to me… He should have just gone straight to you! Although, I'm sure he was smart enough to know this is _exactly_ the response you'd give him! I should have known… I should have _known_ you'd respond like this! You've _always_ hated Malfoy. Of course you don't want him to be successful! I thought you'd moved on from that, but I guess I was wrong!"

He stared at her in utter disbelief.

"How are you surprised by this?! I am giving him the response he _deserves_ Hermione! Are you even hearing yourself right now? What you are suggesting is like allowing a Nazi soldier to teach chemistry to adolescents! I _understand_ that Malfoy's situation is unique, and I suppose there's a part of me that pities the circumstances in which he was raised, but Jesus Hermione, he sided with a _murderer_! He may not have killed anyone himself, but he supported someone who did… I _appreciate_ that Malfoy seems to have turned a new leaf. But he has to live with the consequences of his decisions Hermione, no matter the justification for why he made them. This isn't about me not wanting Draco to succeed… How could you even think that? This is about me _trying_ to protect _you!_ But if this is what you want to do… Fine. Go for it. But you'll have to do it without me. I won't support you on this one Min."

With that he turned to exit her office, but just as he reached for the doorknob he stopped and lowered his head.

"I may regret asking this, but I'll take the risk. Why does Malfoy's happiness suddenly matter to you?" He turned to look her in the eye. "Don't lie to me Hermione. Are you and he…"

"Goodness no!" she exclaimed. "After everything that's been going on with Ron… How could you even think I would do something like that?!"

A look of relief crossed his face, as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"I don't know Hermione… You just seemed so suddenly passionate about this, and it's not like you to be so irrational… I thought maybe… I don't know. I shouldn't have said it. Just forget I mentioned it..."

"It's alright… I guess we've both said things we regret today… I'm sorry for accusing you of not caring about Malfoy's success."

"S'alright. I do care… I guess I just don't understand why you care so much."

She took a deep breath. Why _did_ she care so much? It's not like she owed Draco anything. It wasn't even that she felt he'd been done a terrible disservice. She knew deep down that the majority of Harry's points had been valid. He'd raised the same concerns she'd initially had… Why had she gotten so defensive?

"I guess… I guess I just saw someone asking for forgiveness for their mistakes; someone requesting to be given a second chance… And I related to that desire I suppose…"

She was quiet for a moment, and Harry allowed her time to think.

"There's still so much _hate_ Harry… _So much hate_. People are still so _angry_ about the war, and they have a right to be, but that anger is causing all of these new prejudices and rifts in the community and I just thought… I guess I thought this might alleviate some of that. But I was being naïve. And that's _honestly_ why I called you in. You and Ron were right when you said I tend to think too much with my head and not my heart, but I've been so emotional lately… I knew you'd see what I wasn't willing to. Everything you said… I'd thought it myself… I guess I had just hoped—"

"Oh Hermione…" Harry said, coming around the desk to wrap her in his arms.

"He was so broken Harry… You should have seen him. He sauntered in here with that Malfoy charm, but you could see right to his core Harry…" she whispered. "He just wanted something of his own… I know it's Malfoy, but after everything he's been through, after everything he's lost… Hasn't he suffered enough?" she murmured into his chest.

Harry let out a deep sigh. "I know it may seem unfair Hermione, but like I said, he has to suffer the consequences for his actions. And, unfortunately, part of that is his public image. I don't see how he can overcome that one, at least not easily. And I honestly don't think making him a professor will help."

"I know," she conceded and broke their embrace, "but I still want to at least mention it to McGonagall. Maybe she'll see something we don't. I know it's a long shot, but I promised Draco I would try. It's the least I can do I suppose."

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Did Draco say anything else to you… Ya know, to spur any of this on?"

She looked up from the papers she'd been rummaging through and met his knowing stare. How did he always seem to know what was going on with her?

"He may or may not have brought up me and Ron…"

"Ah," Harry said, retaking his seat.

"Oh, don't act like this is going to turn into a drawn out conversation simply because Ron was mentioned."

"How could it not Hermione?! You don't have a great track record to go off of…"

She chuckled, "Well I'm sorry to disappoint, but there's really not much to say… He saw us, Ron and I, the day we took Rose to Kings Cross for her first year at Hogwarts, and he could tell we were unhappy. I don't know how, but he was right. Things were… Well things weren't good. But then when he helped us save Al and Scorp, he said he could see there was still something there. I'm not sure what he meant by that, but he told me love was the one thing in this world worth fighting for. And that if I believed there was anything left between Ron and I, I owed it to us both to fight for it…"

They were both silent for a moment.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy said all of that?"

"He did," she smiled.

"He told you to fight for love?"

She nodded.

"Merlin," Harry murmured under his breath. "I knew he'd changed and that he was a good father and that losing Astoria was tough on him, but I guess there are some words you just never expect to hear from someone…"

"I know… I was as shocked as you were."

"So are you going to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Fight for love?"

"Oh Harry," she sighed "I want to. I do. I just… I guess I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what exactly?"

She thought for a moment. She knew once she said it out loud she wouldn't be able to keep denying it in her head. "I'm afraid I'm going to invest all of this time and emotion into our relationship and get attached, only to have my heart broken again, or even worse, to watch myself break his heart again."

"Hermione, yes you both made mistakes, and yes you hurt each other, but for one thing, that's kind of a part of marriage, and for another, don't you think this is your chance to learn from those mistakes and make it right?"

"I suppose."

"How was your date last night? Didn't you two go out for dinner or something?"

She grimaced a bit as memories of last night flashed through her brain.

"Oh. Not good huh?"

"No. No." she sputtered. "No, it was actually really nice… It's just…"

"What?"

"Well, Ron told me that he loved me an—"

"He did WHAT?! No he didn't!"

"Oh, stop it Harry! You sound like Ginny!"

"If Ginny were here she'd have tackled you by now… Well, what did you say?!"

"I told him I loved him too…" she murmured.

"Why do you sound less than enthusiastic about that? Did you not mean it?"

"No, no! I did! I don't know… I mean I do love him. He's one of the most important people in my life, and last night reminded me of how good things can be between us… I just… What if I can't love him the same way I did in the beginning? What if I can't love him the same way he loves me or the way he needs me to love him? What if—"

"Hermione, love changes. It evolves. It adapts. It's not supposed to look the same as it did in the beginning. And if both of you are willing to reshape it together… I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think Draco was right. If there's still something there, you owe it to both of you to give it your best shot."

She signed, "I know. You're right… We should have made more of an effort to keep in touch with him, ya know? After everything that happened with the kids… He seemed so lonely today…"

"Who Draco? Ah Mione, don't beat yourself up over that. We've all been so busy, you more than anyone…"

"I know Harry, but I'm done using that as an excuse for pushing people out of my life. I took this position because I wanted to make a difference in the Wizarding Community, but not at the expense of my character… What does it say about me as a person if I allowed my career to ruin the most important relationship in my life and prevent me from noticing a friend in need?"

"Well I don't know if I'd call Draco a 'friend,' but I know what you mean… We may not be able to get him a job at Hogwarts, but we can certainly invite the bloke over for dinner… That's also less likely to cause a major societal uproar…"

She laughed, "Yea, I suppose you're right."

Still, she felt like she at least needed to mention Draco's request to Minerva, though she thought it best not to bring it up with Harry again.

"I know I've said this to you a lot lately Hermione, but I feel like you've been doubting yourself so much, so I'll say it once more. You are an amazingly talented, intelligent, caring, and honorable witch and Minister for Magic and an even better friend, mother, and dare I say, wife. No, you are not perfect, but you own up to your mistakes and do your bloody best to fix them… What more can you ask of yourself Hermione, that's within reason of course? Stop focusing on all of the things you've done wrong or wish you could've done differently, and allow yourself to see all of the good that's there too. Ok? And stop trying to carry the weight of everyone else's problems on your shoulders. I know as Minister you feel like it's your responsibility to fix everything, but it's not. There are some things that are simply out of your hands, and you need to learn to let go before you're crushed… I know you won't believe me, but it really is ok to let go. It's ok Hermione."

For the hundredth time in the past couple weeks she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. What had she done to deserve such an incredible best friend? Nothing that she could think of.

"Thank you Harry Potter," she whispered. "Some day I'll find a way to repay you for everything you've done for me…"

"No need. You already have, a hundred times over."


	10. Chapter 10: Reminiscing

Author Note: Heyyyy fraaannnddsss! Sorry it's been so long, but ya know, stuff happens;) I have two chapters for you tonight though, and Chapter 11 is a little bit steamy;))) Nothing overly descriptive, so we're keeping the "T" rating for now, but be forewarned if talk of sex makes ya squirmy;) As always, please leave me a comment! I love critique!

On another note, for all of you worried this is going to turn into a "Dramione" story, let me reassure you, while I do enjoy that pairing, I do not see it happening in the actual universe of the books, so that won't be occurring in this particular story;) This fic is strictly about exploring what I imagine would have happened to the Ron and Hermione based on their actions in the books and in Cursed Child.

Lumos!

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"What are you asking me exactly Hermione?"

"I'm asking you to move back in," she finally squeaked out.

"Well that doesn't exactly sound convincing," Ron laughed.

It was Friday afternoon, and they were sitting at the same table in the same teashop they had a month ago when they'd discussed the contents of the letter. She smiled to herself as she thought about that letter. It really was _the_ letter, wasn't it? If it weren't for that piece of paper, for the bravery it took the man sitting across from her to compose it, they wouldn't be sitting here, would they?

She was reminded again of the significance of that act. It really had taken an enormous amount of courage for him to be that honest with her. She knew that, and she admired him for it. In the end, she'd decided she owed him the same thing. Not necessarily in the same form. She'd never had difficulty sharing her thoughts, but she had struggled with letting him back into her life. Even before the separation, she'd often been selfish with her time, only letting him in when it was convenient or necessary.

If she really wanted to give her and Ron their best shot, she knew she had to give as much as he was. They'd already come a long way over the past month, she admitted. They'd met for lunch and dinner regularly, and they'd spent 3 of the last 4 weekends together. Things were going well, but when he'd kissed her goodbye the last two Saturday nights and she'd fought the urge to ask him to stay, she knew she was ready to take things further.

"Sorry," she sighed, "I think I'm just… nervous is all."

"Hermione, I don't want you to do anything because you think you have to. I agreed to take things slow, and I meant that."

"I know, and I appreciate that Ron, so much. But I… I feel like I'm ready for the next step. Things have been good. Better than they've been in a long while. And while a part of me is afraid of messing that up, another part is trying desperately to not overthink things and to just go with what I feel bu—"

"What do you _feel_ Hermione," he said, interrupting her.

"I feel… I feel genuinely happy," she admitted, meeting his gaze. "At first, I'll be honest, I was terrified. And while there are moments when I still am, more and more often I'm just so damn happy I forget what I'm supposed to be worried about."

She was silent for a moment as she thought over the past month. For some reason a certain Malfoy's words were echoing in her ears: 'If there's a shred of hope there, fight for it'. Probably best to bring that up another time, she laughed to herself. She doubted Ron would be thrilled that part of her motivation to rekindle their relationship was due to a conversation with Draco.

"I feel like we're both _fighting_ for each other right now… and I like that. I think that's something we lost. I know the first few months of a relationship are always easier, more blissful, but there have already been things we've had to work through that would have become major arguments in the past. I just feel like we're ready. For the next step I mean. But if you don't want to I unde—"

"I want to," he blurted out.

"Oh?" She was suddenly conscious of her heart thudding in her chest.

"Yea," he said softly, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. He reached out then and took one of her hands in his. "I understand being afraid to mess up what we have going right now. Believe me, I do. But if we start walking on tip-toes around each other again, we're going to end up right where we started."

"I agree, one hundred percent," she said. "What should we tell the kids? Or Harry and Ginny for that matter?" She didn't want the kids to get their hopes up, but was it right to keep something so big from them?

Ron thought for a moment, and she couldn't help but notice his thumb absent-mindedly stroking the back of her hand. "The kids won't be home for Christmas for another month, so I don't see the need to tell them anything right now. Let's just see how things go, K? As for Harry and Gin, you know as well as I do they'd murder us both if we kept this from them. They'll be obnoxious about it, but I'd rather endure that than their wrath, eh?"

"Agreed," she laughed, "I'll see if they want to have dinner tomorrow night and we can talk then."

"Brilliant. So… when should I bring my things round then?"

"Oh," she hesitated. This was really happening. She'd invited him here to discuss specifically this, and yet it hadn't felt real until just now. "Umm, whenever's convenient I suppose. I don't need to go back to the ministry tonight, so I could help you if you wanted, or really any day this weekend would be fine."

"I'm free now. George said he would handle closing up tonight, and I don't have anything else going on. I don't have much to pack up, so it shouldn't take long. We could grab some takeout and make a date of it," he suggested.

"Yea," she said with a smile, "yea, that sounds really nice."

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She'd only ever been in his flat one time, and given that she didn't remember much about the activities of that night, she wasn't surprised that she barely recognized the place. It had two bedrooms, one for Ron and one for the kids to share, but it was small. She was surprised he hadn't chosen something a bit nicer, but then he'd never been one for the ostentatious.

She was running her finger along the mantle in the living room, looking at the moving figures in the few pictures Ron had chosen to display, when she heard him walk out of his bedroom. "You kept this one from Hawaii," she observed.

"Oh, yea," he replied, setting down the trunk he'd been holding before walking over to look at the photo. He casually wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his chin on her shoulder.

A tanned Harry and Hermione and a slightly burned Ron and Ginny, surrounded by a variety of tropical foliage, smiled back at them. Harry and Ron had surprised she and Gin with the trip to celebrate the girls' Hogwarts graduation and the completion of the boys' first year of Auror training. They'd spent two wonderful weeks surfing, hiking volcanoes, drinking piña coladas and eating the best seafood, and exploring literally everything the islands had to offer. It had been complete bliss.

"I loved that trip," he said. "Some of my favorite memories, for sure," he laughed, as he reminisced. "Do you remember how annoying Harry was about surfing? Merlin, I mean, I'll admit, the bloke wasn't half bad, but he wouldn't shut up about it! And then Ginny transfigured that shell into a shark fin, and Harry almost had a heart attack!"

They both laughed at the memory. "I'll never forget the look on his face as he fell off that board… That was the moment I realized how good Gin was for him I think. She didn't treat him like he was broken like everyone else. To her, he was just Harry."

He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "That was also the trip when I realized I was in love with you."

She stiffened a bit in his arms, cocking her head to look at him. "You never told me that," she breathed. "You said you always loved me, that there wasn't a specific moment."

"And that's true. I have always loved you. And I definitely fell in love with you gradually over time. But it was on that trip, when we were properly alone, without some sort of threat at our backs, that I began to see what a life with you would be like."

She felt his arms tighten around her. "And I knew that I wanted it, more than anything else I had ever wanted." He turned away from the picture to meet her eyes. "I still do."

She kissed him then, and it was the most passionate kiss they'd shared in a long time, one full of emotion and raw honesty. "Me too," she said as they pulled apart. "Mine was the entire year after we got back."

"What?"

"The moment I realized I was in love with you. It took me longer, but I think I realized it a bit more every day that first year we both worked for the ministry. Doing long distance at Hogwarts was difficult, but being so close and yet unable to see you was torture. I thought that feeling might go away, but after every long and grueling day of researching and writing proposals, it never did; I still wanted to spend every moment I could next to you. Harry told us so many times that year to just move in together because of all the nights we fell asleep talking on your couch or on mine and Gin's."

He stared at her for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. He brushed a stray hair behind her ear and claimed another kiss. This one was more tender than the previous one, and she felt a heat flush her cheeks and a string pull deep in her belly. When they broke apart this time, she was sure this would be another moment she would look back on as significant one day.

"As much as I would love to stand here and snog you all night," he said with a wink, "we're going to miss our opportunity for curry if we don't get going."

"Ah, there's my husband. I was beginning to wonder where he'd gone," she joked.

They gathered the rest of Ron's essentials up, and when he reached for the floo powder, Hermione glanced around the flat and found herself hoping that Ron would never have to come here again, unless it was to move his things out for good.

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"Problem?" she asked, as she walked up behind Ron standing in the middle of the hallway, trunk in hand.

"Umm yea, actually, I'm wondering if this should go in ou—your room or the guest room."

"Oh." It honestly hadn't occurred to her that he might stay in any room but theirs, but maybe that was moving things too quickly. "Ou—my room is fine with me."

"Is that what you want Hermione," he said, turning to assess her.

"Yes," she whispered, "Yes it's what I want."

She watched from the doorway as he moved about the room, placing clothes in drawers, books on shelves, toiletries in the bathroom, shoes in the closet, and she was surprised by how natural it all seemed. By the time he'd finished it was almost like he'd never left. She was even more surprised by the sense of relief she felt to have him home. He belonged here, and she realized it had always felt a little off sense he'd been gone.

"What are you thinking," he asked, noticing she'd been watching him.

"I'm thinking that I'm glad you're home. And that in my head, this never stopped been _our_ room. Honestly, this never stopped being _our_ home…" This was the house they'd moved into when they got married, the house they'd become proper adults in, the house they'd raised their children in. Ever since the separation she'd dreaded the thought of having to sell it. She realized now that was probably because selling their home and moving into a new one _without_ him would truly be the end of this chapter of her life, an end of _their story_. And standing here in front of him, she knew this was a story she was not ready to be over.

Lips were everywhere. Hands were everywhere. She wasn't sure who had moved first, but she honestly didn't care. It was like a bomb had exploded, and all of the tension that had been building up between them over the course of the evening and the past month was finally diffusing. And for once it was a positive tension, one full of hopeful anticipation of what was to come.

"Bed. Now," he moaned into her mouth.

"Mmm," she'd managed back. "Give a minute ok. I want to change."


	11. Chapter 11: More Than That

Author note: Here's your 2nd update for today! Whoop! And again, WARNING if you don't like sexual content. This chapter is pretty much all about that. It's not super descriptive, but heavily heavily heavily implied.

Lumos!

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Well, that had definitely not gone how she'd hoped.

Things had started out fine enough, but, in the end, something hadn't been right.

She wracked her brain, sifting through every detail, every action and verbal/physical exchange from the past twenty minutes, trying to pinpoint where she'd gone wrong.

She'd disappeared into the washroom to change, which, admittedly, she'd overcomplicated. But what was one supposed to wear when getting into bed with one's estranged partner when a certain something was undoubtedly about to occur?! Sure, there wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but somehow wearing nothing had felt too bold and regular pajamas too boring. Lingerie hadn't seemed appropriate, so ultimately she'd gone with one of her nicer cotton bra and panty sets under a silk robe.

Then there'd been the matter of her hair. She'd let it get so long. She'd considered throwing it up in a bun so it would be out of the way, but then Ron had always liked tangling his fingers in her 'lion's mane,' as he called it. She'd been distracted thinking about the other things Ron had liked to do with his fingers when she'd become hyperaware of the fact that he was sitting in her bed, no _their_ bed, at that very moment waiting for her. And they hadn't been fighting. When was the last time she'd thought about sex with her husband in any context outside of a drunken, lust-filled haze or an argument-fueled burst of passion?

She'd felt that familiar heat pooling in her abdomen and had been close to bursting out of the loo at that very moment. But then she'd noticed the lines on her forehead and in the corners of her eyes… God, why did time have to be such a complete bitch! What she wouldn't give to be that tanned girl in Hawaii again… She'd decided to scrub the makeup off her face any way. If Ron was going to see all of her, he might as well truly see _all_ of her. Thinking back on it now, it all seemed so utterly ridiculous. Why had she been so nervous? "Because I wanted to impress him," she realized.

After appraising herself in the mirror for the tenth time and asking herself once more if she was really sure about this, she'd finally plucked up the courage to walk back into the bedroom. She'd found Ron sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard and situated beneath the comforter, clothes folded haphazardly on the dresser. He hadn't even questioned the amount of time she'd been absent, which she'd taken to mean he'd probably been contemplating their current situation as much as she had.

She'd dimmed the lights with her wand and made her way to her side of the bed, discarding the robe and gingerly sliding under the covers next to him, hoping he hadn't noticed the shakiness of the breath that she'd apparently been holding and just released.

" _Hermione, we don't have to do anything,_ " he'd told her.

She'd known that, though it was nice to hear him say it. She hadn't felt coerced or pushed in any way. She'd _wanted_ to do it, hadn't she? They'd been seeing each other for a month. She'd asked to take things slow, and he'd obliged. And after the conversations they'd had today, it was pretty clear how they felt about one another. It was time. Wasn't it?

" _I want to,"_ she'd said decidedly, turning to look him in the eye.

One of his hands had found its way to hers, while the other cupped her cheek tenderly.

" _Ok"._

He'd kissed her then, but not before squeezing her hand, as if trying to assure her they were in this together.

At first it had been all right. They'd snogged and giggled about their clumsiness in the beginning, but then there'd been a fair bit of touching, caressing, and exploring, well re-exploring. At some point her bra had been tossed to the floor, and two pairs of underwear behind it. She was surprised to recall how _natural_ it had all been, how _safe_ she'd felt, and how much she wanted him, really _wanted_ him. And not just physically, but emotionally and… Ok, so maybe it had been a bit more than all right.

Then he'd rolled on top of her, settling himself between her thighs, and her breath had caught in her throat.

She remembered the way he'd gazed at her, taking in the sight of her exposed form. Why had she felt so vulnerable, so insecure? It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her like this a hundred times before. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually looking, as opposed to just carelessly slamming his body into hers.

" _You're beautiful, Hermione,"_ he'd whispered over the shell of her ear.

When was the last time he had called her beautiful? Had he not seen how wide her hips had gotten over the years or how saggy her breasts were or the stretch marks that covered her abdomen? She thanked Merlin his gaze hadn't made it further down. She could only imagine the state that was in… But as she'd looked up at him, she'd acknowledged that she still found him attractive as well. Sure he wasn't as thin as he'd once been, and there was certainly more gray in his hair, and more hair everywhere in general, but she thought it made him look more mature, and certainly just as handsome.

He'd aligned himself then and scooted forward. She'd felt him at her entrance, and then… she'd panicked. Her heart had begun to race, her breaths shallow and rapid. Her fists had clinched in the sheets, and she'd flinched involuntarily at his touch, her body gone rigid.

" _Mione, are you ok? Do you want me to stop?"_ he'd asked, worry in his blue eyes.

She'd hesitated, not wanting him to think he'd done something wrong. She _had_ wanted him to stop, but why? She supposed her silence had been enough to tell him not to go any further, because before she could formulate a response he'd simply kissed her forehead and rolled over on his back.

"It's pretty fucked up isn't it," he said, pulling her from her thoughts.

"What is?" she asked, her back turned towards him.

"The fact that the only times we've shagged in years were the results of heated arguments or lust, and now that we're finally trying to fix things, it doesn't feel right. _Now_ it doesn't bloody feel right… What the hell is wrong with us Hermione?"

She chuckled bitterly. At least she didn't have to explain her reaction to him. It just hadn't felt… right. "We've used sex as a way to fix things, or at least to fill the silence, for so long Ron. It allowed us to let out all the pent up frustration we felt, but it didn't really mean anything outside of that. It couldn't; we still had too many walls up."

She sighed, turning over to find him watching her. "I'm not angry at you anymore Ron, so when you touch me… I feel it, and it _means_ something. It means I'm letting you in, and honestly, in this moment I'm scared. I'm scared of what you'll do to me, and more than that, I'm scared of what I'll do to you… I guess what I'm trying to say is, this isn't _just_ _sex_ anymore. It's more than that. And as much as I don't want to be terrified of that, I am."

She watched him consider her words before leaning in to kiss her softly. It was short and chaste and comforting more than anything, but she felt something flutter inside her nonetheless. In that moment she remembered exactly what it felt like to be in love with this man.

He gently pulled her body towards his, and she yielded willingly. "I think we've done enough thinking for tonight Hermione. Let's just go to sleep, ok?"

So she did. She fell asleep with her forehead nestled in the crook of his neck, her palms resting on his chest, one of his arms cradling the back of her head, and the other wrapped tightly, protectively around her waist.

But what was he protecting her from? Himself? Herself? The pain of a damaged marriage? The pain of fixing a damaged marriage? She wasn't sure. But as she drifted into unconsciousness she decided she was determined to fix it, whatever _it_ turned out to be. Because this man, this man who continually surprised and amazed her, he was worth it.


End file.
